Life Sucks
by ScintillatingTart
Summary: Penelope Garcia's entry into the BAU is a long time coming and has plenty of flaws. Alternate universe.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Criminal Minds or anything resembling a copyright in that vein. Don't sue me – all you'd get is a bunch of socks and a buttload of debt.

This is my own little AU that I've been busy amusing myself with for a while. Hopefully, you'll be amused, too. Thanks to K & L for betaing.

Life Sucks  
>by ScintillatingTart<p>

* * *

><p>June 1997 <p>

"Hi," Penelope Garcia said, extending her hand. "I guess we're working together."

The other woman looked at her hand a little disdainfully. "You mean I'm earning my paycheck by baby-sitting a computer hacker that doesn't know how to shoot a gun."

Penelope sighed. "Yeah, I wouldn't be thrilled, either. But they threw us together, so maybe we should make the best of it?"

"I don't scrub the toilet."

Penelope smiled. "I can do that. I don't do well with dusting – bad allergies."

"So I'll dust and you clean the toilets. Who cooks?"

They looked at each other, then chorused, "Takeout."

Maybe there was hope after all!

"I'm Penelope Garcia."

"Emily Prentiss." The brunette smirked. "By the way, shoes like that aren't standard issue."

Penelope shrugged. "I'm not standard issue, Sugar Tits – get over it."

* * *

><p>January 2001 <p>

"Baby Girl," Emily said, "I want you to think about doing this. Like, seriously think about it."

Penelope shook her head. "Do I have a choice? Ian Doyle is looking for a computer expert. Alphabet Soup wants me in there because I can do twice as much as everyone else. If I don't do this, we lose the chance to catch him in his own game."

"Yes, but –"

Penelope sighed. "You're my best friend, Emily, and we've been attached at the hip for three years. It's time they turned me loose and let me do something outside the safe house and the office."

"You still don't know how to shoot," Emily ground out through clenched teeth. "What the hell kind of a CIA operative doesn't know how to shoot?"

"I've never needed to learn," Penelope murmured, grabbing Emily's hand. "And now isn't the time to force it on me. I've got to do this." She smiled. "Besides, you've got my back. I know you won't be far off."

"Never," Emily promised.

"Why do you call me 'baby girl'?" Penelope asked, squeezing Emily's hand for reassurance.

"Because when you came to us, it was your code name," Emily reminded her with a chuckle. "You've grown up, but you'll always be 'baby girl' to me."

Penelope smiled. "Right," she replied.

"Promise me something," Emily said.

"Hmm?"

"If you get in over your head, do something, ANYTHING, to get our attention. Please. I'm not going to lose my best friend because she did something stupid."

Penelope nodded. "Believe me, when it's time to go, I'm going to send up a signal so fantastically insane that you'll know it."

"Red flags?"

"Everywhere," Penelope promised. "When I need you, you'll know it. There'll be a fucking ticker-tape parade with your name everywhere."

* * *

><p>September 13, 2001 <p>

"We haven't gotten anything from Garcia since the 11th."

"She was supposed to check in yesterday," Prentiss said, shaking her head. That was two of the last four meets that Penelope had blown off. Something was wrong. She didn't know what, but she knew that Penelope wouldn't bow out without a damn good reason. Even with the hysteria around them, the chatter, the mourning, the broken world around them, Penelope would hold up her end.

"Yeah, I know."

The phone rang and Emily grabbed it. "Prentiss."

"This is Kramer – Garcia hacked into one of the Interpol databases and left an embedded code. When we decrypted it just a couple of minutes ago, it turned out to be a ticker. It says, 'NOW, SUGAR TITS' on repeat."

Emily groaned. "I made her promise to do something that we wouldn't lose sight of –"

"Well, I think that qualifies."

"We need a backup team."

"The FBI is sending a team over to 'arrest' Garcia. You don't need to lift a finger."

"I need to be there –"

"Agent Prentiss, you are to remain at the listening post until we get Garcia under wraps. Do you understand?"

Emily bit her lip. "Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>September 14, 2001 <p>

It was two in the morning when Penelope was out of the debriefing and they let Emily see her. Penelope all but flew into Emily's arms, sobbing like a fool. "Oh my god, I'm so glad to see you," she whimpered. "Emily – they're going to put me in prison."

"What?" Emily asked. "What did you DO?"

"I'm pregnant," Penelope wailed. "It's Doyle's. He knows. It's for my protection or something – he's going to come after me. I fucked up, Sugar Tits."

"Baby Girl, calm down," Emily ordered, forcing Penelope to sit down. "Take a deep breath."

"They're sending me to the new prison at Guantanamo Bay," Penelope whispered on a sniffling sob. "Officially, I'll be a prisoner. Unofficially, I'm going to be hiding from Ian Doyle in a bunker full of computers so I can monitor world chat for the Agency. I might as well be a fucking prisoner. I'm never getting out of there as long as Doyle is alive."

"Didn't they give you the birth control shot before you went undercover?" Emily asked.

"Yes, but CLEARLY it didn't work!" Penelope cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "I can't go. I can't leave you here by yourself: you'll get into all kinds of trouble."

"You have to protect yourself, Baby Girl," Emily said very quietly. "I'll always be there – on the phone."

"It's not the same," Penelope protested. "You'll do something stupid and –"

"How about this: I will always call you before I do something stupid."

Penelope rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "God above."

Emily kissed her forehead. "Seriously, Pen, you take care of yourself. Be good."

"Be good," Penelope repeated, kissing Emily's forehead in return. "I have to go."

Emily nodded, knowing it was the last time she would see Penelope. In four years, they had become thick as thieves, best friends, willing accomplices. They could finish each others' sentences and thoughts and breaking them apart was going to cripple their team.

And break their hearts.

* * *

><p>August 2005 <p>

"Lauren Reynolds is dead," Penelope said down the phone line, finishing her typing with a furious flourish. "Airtight alibis, news reports and paperwork have all been uploaded. You, Emily Prentiss, are a free woman. And Ian Doyle is a cock-sucker."

Emily laughed and said, "I missed you, you giant geek. How is Emma?"

"Your namesake, gorgeous, is currently in school, raising hell and teaching them all a thing or two," Penelope said with a smile. "Any ideas what you're going to do now that you're finished with this op?"

"I have a few plans, but I'm retiring from the Agency. I'm already too old to be getting my ass kicked like this."

Penelope cracked a smile. "I wish I could," she said wistfully. "Even with Doyle soon to be in prison, they want to keep Emma and me undercover, just in case. We're safer here, I guess."

"I've been asked to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI."

"TAKE IT! That's the job you've been waiting for your whole life, Sugar Tits!"

Emily laughed. "I already accepted."

"GOOD! And I will live vicariously through you."

"I miss you," Emily sighed.

"I miss you, too, but you're going to be an awesome FBI agent! OH! I forgot to tell you! I went blonde!"

"What?" Emily asked.

"My hair. Blonde. With pink streaks."

"That's not –"

"Standard issue, I know, but since when have I ever been standard issue?" Penelope teased.

Even two thousand miles apart, the terrible two still had it.

* * *

><p>October 2005 <p>

"Mama, Daleks are scary!" Emma squeaked, pulling her blanket up over her eyes.

Penelope giggled and tickled her daughter. "Oh, they aren't so bad," she teased.

"But they have fings on their bodies and they say, 'Exmerminate' a lot! That means bad things!"

Penelope kissed her on the cheek. "Monkey, doesn't the Doctor always save people from the Daleks?" she asked.

"Yes…"

"Are they still scary?"

"YES!"

"Maybe we should wait till you're older to watch the episodes with the Cybermen," Penelope said. "Are you ready for bed now?"

"What if there's a Dalek in the closet?" Emma asked with wide, round eyes.

"Then Mama will exterminate it," Penelope promised. She got up and opened the closet door. "No Daleks!"

"YAY!" Emma cried.

"Now, lie down and close your eyes," Penelope instructed. Her earpiece beeped and she rolled her eyes. "Mama's got to go take a call, Princess. Please go to sleep."

"Okay," Emma said, grabbing her stuffed unicorn and her Barbie doll and curling up.

Penelope left the door open a crack and headed back into the living area. "This is the Oracle of Guantanamo Bay," she said when she activated the line. "What's your poison?"

"It's me," Emily said. "We have a case and our tech pool is a little slow on the uptake. Can you help without breaking any laws or oaths?"

Penelope smiled. "For you, honey, I would move heaven and earth. Lay it on me."

Ten minutes later, Emily had a mountain of information and they may have cracked the case. "How's my god-daughter?" Emily asked.

"Scared of Daleks," Penelope said. "I don't get it: they're not scary."

"Extermination is scary," Emily pointed out.

"True. Hey, have you done anything stupid lately?" Penelope asked.

"Sort of."

"DISH!" Penelope commanded. "What's his name?"

Emily laughed. "Am I that transparent?"

"Yes."

"Derek Morgan. He's on the team with me."

"You've mentioned him," Penelope said. "And I'm looking at his official photo right now."

"Did you hack the FBI again?" Emily sighed.

"Only a little," Penelope chuckled. "I didn't even break a sweat, beautiful. But he looks like he breaks a sweat quite often – those are not standard issue guns, there. Those are break your back at the gym biceps. I'd love to get my hands on those."

Emily laughed. "I'm sure you would –"

"Forgive me for being a little enamoured of your co-worker," Penelope replied. "Continue on with the story of your stupidity."

Emily laughed harder. "Later," she promised. "How did it go on your date?"

"He spit when he talked – only he didn't so much talk as yell," Penelope sighed. "He was one of the guards."

"Oh, honey," Emily groaned.

"Hey, it's not like I have a whole lot of options around here," Penelope reminded her. "So maybe I'll print off this photo of your sizzling hot god of holy shit is it hot in here and remind myself that real men do exist outside of this hell."

"Sweetheart, we're going to get you out of there."

"When I'm too old to care," Penelope challenged.

Emily couldn't refute that.


	2. Chapter 2

Yeah, I still don't own anything.

Part two: 

April 2011 

"Baby Girl, don't panic," Emily said, her breath ragged as she struggled not to cry.

"DON'T PANIC?" Penelope shrieked down the line. "DON'T PANIC, SHE SAYS! Ian Doyle escaped – fucking ESCAPED – from custody - no, PRISON – and you say NOT TO PANIC? HOW CAN I NOT PANIC?"

"He's not going to come after you, stupid," Emily said, sitting at the end of the hallway, watching the door with her gun at the ready. "You're in the most secure place in the world. The only way he could get to you is if he somehow got arrested and thrown in Gitmo, and he's not smart enough to do that."

"So, what, you're my substitute?"

Emily frowned. "Yeah, well, Lauren Reynolds pretty much picked up the pieces after Penelope Garcia… he's out for blood now."

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid," Penelope begged.

"Like what?" Emily asked. "I've already got my apartment rigged. If anything moves, I'll know it."

"Don't sacrifice yourself to protect me," Penelope said.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty head about that," Emily said, laughing. "I have no intention of getting myself killed to save your sorry ass."

"Emily, I'm serious. He's dangerous."

"You don't have to fucking lecture me on how dangerous our mark is," Emily reminded her. "Or pretend that he didn't snap after you were extracted. I understand. I know. No one else does."

"I'm learning to shoot," Penelope interjected. "Finally."

"GOOD!" Emily said. "Fucking took you long enough."

"I'm not taking any chances," Penelope said very quietly. "He's not taking my daughter: I'll kill him myself before I let him anywhere near her."

"You keep that thought in mind all the time," Emily ordered. "Do not let him get the upper hand. I need you to do one thing for me, though."

"What?"

"Whatever you do, do NOT leave the base. The instant your feet leave Gitmo, Baby Girl, you're unprotected. Stay there."

Penelope sighed. "I hate this place."

"I know. I'm sorry." Sergio jumped up on Emily's lap and she almost crapped her pants. Maybe she'd been too much on alert for too long.

"I'm going to die before he does," Penelope whined. "I'm never going to be free again, am I?"

"Like hell you aren't," Emily muttered. She rubbed Sergio behind the ears. The cat purred. "I'm a really fucking good shot, Penelope. Given the chance, I won't miss."

"I hope, for your sake, that you're right," Penelope whispered.

* * *

><p>May 5, 2011 <p>

She tapped the button and said, "This is your friendly Oracle speaking – I can wave my magic wand and conjure up the information you seek."

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary, Princess."

Penelope's heart stopped and she broke into a cold sweat. "Ian Doyle," she whispered.

"Very correct, Penelope," he said. "I have our friend 'Lauren's' phone and this seems to be her favorite number. Three calls a day? That's a little needy."

Penelope heard noises in the background and Emily's panicked breathing. "Let her go!" Penelope cried. "She didn't –"

"Don't you fucking say she didn't do anything to me," Doyle spat. "She killed my son, just like you killed my child."

"I didn't!" Penelope gasped.

"Don't lie to me, Princess – I would have given you the world, and you stabbed me in the heart. Emily Prentiss here just finished the job," Doyle growled. "I've already branded her as mine, Princess… and now I think we're going to take a little trip down the way so she can revisit where she killed my son."

"Ian, please," Penelope whispered. "I swear to god, GOD, that if you hurt her, I'm going to have to –"

"What? You're no fucking CIA operative. You're soft. You're weak."

"She's stronger than you are," Emily said from far away. The sound of fist connecting with flesh and bone was sickening. "Is that the best you can do?" she taunted. "Beat the fuck out of an unarmed woman?"

Penelope heard struggling, then Doyle's heavy breathing down the line. "Say good-bye to your friend, Princess," he growled, then the line went dead.

She'd triangulated the call.

She only hesitated for a split second.

"Hello?"

"Agent Morgan," Penelope said, her voice shaking, "I work for the CIA. My code name is Oracle. I have Emily Prentiss's location." She rattled off the coordinates and terminated the call.

Only moments later, she was in the bathroom, vomiting until she had nothing left in her stomach.

God help Emily.

Baby Girl had done all she could.

* * *

><p>May 6, 2011 <p>

She'd seen the death certificate before anyone else had. Early information was a perk at times, but at others, it was a curse. A heinous, horrible, dirty curse.

Penelope had been too late.

Her world shifted, all the angles askew, the planes of normalcy fractured and splintered into a thousand pieces. Her stomach lurched and she threw up her coffee in a haze of nausea. And only when she'd stopped vomiting did the tears come.

They'd been friends forever. Even on the bad days, they at least shared email or a quick text or two. The calls were mundane, just checking up on each other and Emily checking in on Emma. But they'd been communication: they'd been a lifeline. Penelope knew Emily had blamed herself for them being stuck in Guantanamo Bay, even though it wasn't her fault. But even that sense of guilt had just strengthened their bond. The Terrible Two were inseparable.

Until now.

It felt like someone had just plucked her heart out, torn it in two, and her handed back the ragged, bleeding, oddly misshapen emotions of decimation and loss. She was in shock, horrified, scared to death that she was next. If Emily went down as the prettiest broken girl that had ever been seen, what chance had Penelope of surviving this?

Emma found her in the bathroom, curled up in the bottom of the bathtub, hiding from everything. Penelope accepted her daughter's embrace, but didn't return it.

She was broken by love, paralyzed by fear, and knew that no one could help her.

They stayed like that until Emma left for class.

Then Penelope crawled out of the bathroom and into her office. If she had no other recourse, she had her information. She had her babies and an unadulterated stream of information. She knew where Ian Doyle was: he wasn't hiding anymore.

He was waiting for her.

And she would be waiting for him.

She dialed and waited. "Agent Jareau, this is Oracle. We need to talk about Emily Prentiss's funeral."

* * *

><p>May 12, 2011 <p>

All she could dare hope was that Ian Doyle wouldn't recognize her. All of her files had old photos from when she'd been brunette and much thinner. She was a redhead and seventy pounds heavier than when she'd been 'arrested'. Having a child, stress eating, and not much exercise outside did that.

She was hoping against all hope that she wouldn't have to use the gun she had strapped on her thigh. That he would leave her the fuck alone and let her mourn Emily in peace.

She had doctored her travel records, using the pseudonym of Barbara Mitchell, so no one could track her entry back into the States. She'd never used that identity before: it was one of the ones that Emily had rejected years before, and Penelope had always held it in her back pocket. She had passports, travel papers, ID cards and everything else in that name.

She got out of the taxi and headed up the steps into the FBI building. She passed security easily and headed for the sixth floor. Section Chief Strauss was waiting for her, to brief her on how security would be at the funeral. And then she would be meeting the BAU team.

It was daunting.

Ten minutes later, Strauss was saying, "I know you've been in a hot mess of trouble, Miss Garcia, and that if Doyle finds out that you're here, we're all in for a lot more."

Penelope shrugged. "He's not going to find out," she said. "I covered my tracks. Unless you have a mole, he's going to be laying low in the dark."

"I want you to know that we appreciate you taking the risk to be here," Strauss continued. "Prentiss spoke often of you as a friend and defended you quite furiously a few times when your criminal status was brought up."

Penelope smiled a sad smile. "Yeah, well, she helped me write up the file," she said. "Though I'm guilty of everything that's in the file, it was all CIA sanctioned. Except the Interpol hack in 2001. That was just me trying to send up flares and red flags."

"The Agency is extremely lucky to have you as an asset. Have you ever considered a transfer to a different branch of the Feds?"

"No," Penelope said honestly. "Partially because of Ian Doyle. Partially because of my daughter."

"If there ever comes a time when you'd like a change, the FBI has been hammering on the CIA's door for years to even get a glimpse of what you can do."

Penelope's smile faded. "Ma'am? I assisted Emily Prentiss with information searches when your tech pool came up dry. Under the table, of course. You've seen what I can do, and I'm still undercover with the Agency, so that's all you'll see."

Strauss hesitated a moment, then nodded stiffly. "We've been trying to peg down exactly where Ian Doyle is –"

"He's in Annapolis," Penelope replied. "I can give you the address. He's really not hiding."

"Clearly, our technical analysts aren't nearly as proficient as you are."

"Obsessive," Penelope corrected. "When your life and your child's life are at risk, it becomes an obsession, just to keep you safe."

Strauss nodded. "There will be armed details of plain clothes agents posted around the church," she said. "They only have eyes for Doyle - and your protection."

Penelope nodded. "And at the cemetery?"

"Snipers posted at buildings around the perimeter."

Penelope nodded again. "May I meet the team, please? I want to know Emily's family."

Strauss nodded. She picked up the phone. "Aaron, would you please join me in my office?" she requested. With that done, she folded her fingers together on top of the desk and merely stared at Penelope. "How did you manage to make it through the CIA training program?"

Penelope fought a smile: she'd often wondered the same thing. "Motivation," she said. "If I didn't enter the program and pass the basics, I was going to jail. Maybe I would have been better off if I'd failed."

There was a knock on the door, then it opened and a tall man with dark hair stepped in. "Ma'am, you rang?" he asked only semi-sardonically.

Strauss gestured. "Come in and shut the door. Penelope Garcia, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, leader of the BAU's Alpha Team. Aaron, Miss Garcia is the reason we had to postpone Agent Prentiss's funeral. We needed to get her cleared and set up security measures."

Hotchner nodded. "It's good to meet you, Miss Garcia: I just wish it was under better circumstances." He offered Penelope a hand, but she almost didn't take it: she forced herself to shake his hand. "Emily mentioned you on more than a few occasions."

"So I've been told," Penelope said, her voice heavy with sadness. "Before I meet your team, I need to tell you something, Agent Hotchner."

"Please," he said, "call me Aaron."

"Agent Hotchner," she said pointedly, "Agent Morgan and Agent Jareau have both received phone calls in the past from a CIA operative called 'Oracle'. That's my code name. I shouldn't be telling either of you this because you don't have high enough clearance. But I was the last person to speak with Emily Prentiss before your team got the location and I feel that if I hadn't argued with Doyle on the phone, if I hadn't begged him to stop, she might still be alive." Tears prickled around the edges of her eyes, but she was stronger than they were. She didn't even reach up to wipe them away: she just blinked until they subsided. She was too stubborn.

"Miss Garcia," Strauss began, but Hotchner held up his hand.

"Penelope, nothing you could have done in that phone call would have stopped Ian Doyle's mission to kill Emily Prentiss," Hotchner said, "and feeling guilty about something over which you have no control is not going to help anything. Now, I want you to answer me one question: are you 'Baby Girl'?"

The familiar name washed over her like a benediction. "Yes."

"Oh, good," Hotchner said with a tiny smile on his lips. "We were afraid Emily was lesbian and just didn't want to tell us."

Penelope laughed at the very idea. "No, no, that was my code name before I was arrested," she assured him. "Emily always said I was her 'baby girl', no matter what the Brass said."

"I'd like you to come down to the bullpen and meet the team," Hotchner said.

Penelope nodded. "I'd like that very much," she said softly. In all the time that Emily had worked at the FBI, Penelope had only spoken to her co-workers a few times. One of those times, she didn't even count, because Derek Morgan answering Emily's phone drunk in the middle of the night while they were fucking was forever burned into her brain like scar tissue. The other times, it had always been business, and she'd always announced herself as 'Oracle'.

What on earth were they going to think of her?

She'd toned it down for the FBI, but she was still wearing a black pinstriped pleated skirt with a lace-edged asymmetrical hem, Cuban style stockings, five-inch stiletto mary-janes, and a low-cut black blouse with white polka dots on it. Her jewelry was chunky and red, white and black. Her makeup was simple, nothing flashy aside from her blood-red lipstick. Her hair was down, held in place with a black headband with a white flower stuck to it. Her perfume was just as suggestive as the amount of cleavage she was showing off.

She'd forgotten that when she gained weight, it all went to her chest. The blouse had fit a couple of weeks ago, but now she was concerned about buttons popping off.

Hotchner led her out of Strauss's office and downstairs. She felt a lot of eyes on her, but she held her head high and didn't acknowledge any of them. Instead, she did a paranoid sweep of the room, looking for defensive positions and offensive locations, searching for anywhere she could hide if needed. Her gaze landed on that gorgeous, gorgeous Derek Morgan, and she forced herself to look away.

"Of course, you have clearance to go anywhere and access any portion of the FBI and its computer systems," Hotchner was saying, "but we'd prefer it if you stayed in the BAU area. It will make it easier on security."

Penelope nodded and smiled. She genuinely liked Agent Hotchner from the small amount of time she'd spent with him already. Emily had always had nothing but kind things to say about him and his family. "I'll do that," she promised.

They paused by the wall and she looked up and down, finding Emily's picture on it. The wall of fallen agents. She couldn't help but reach out and touch the frame, then snatched her hand back as if she'd been burnt. It was still raw and fresh. Too raw. Too fresh.

"I'm sorry," Penelope said very quietly.

"Don't be," Hotchner said. "You're welcome here, Miss –"

"Please, just call me Garcia," Penelope said. "It's easier."

"All right, Garcia." Hotchner gestured to the team: it said something about the rapport and his personal command of his unit that they immediately came to join them. "Guys, this is Miss Penelope Garcia, and she's going to be visiting our unit from the CIA for a few days. She's Prentiss's Baby Girl," he said.

Reid looked her up and down, then said, "Doesn't seem like Prentiss's type. Mainly because she doesn't seem to have a penis."

Penelope flushed bright red and saw stars of rage as she spluttered. "Excuse me?"

Rossi rolled his eyes and extended his hand. "Don't take the kid personally, Miss Garcia," he said. "He thinks he knows everything, but his manners are lacking." When she took his hand, he rolled his thumb over the back of her hand in a slow circle intended to calm her down, then he shook her hand. "David Rossi."

"Penelope Garcia," she responded, feeling the blood leave her face slowly.

"And that," Rossi said, gesturing with his thumb, "is Doctor Spencer Reid. He's in a mood right now, so you'll have to forgive him for being insensitive and looking at your chest."

"I'm more offended that anyone would think I have a penis," Penelope said, releasing Rossi's hand. "Just because I could take most of you in a dark alley doesn't mean I have penis envy."

"I'd like to see you take any one of us," Derek Morgan said, extending his hand toward her. "Morgan."

"Derek Morgan," Penelope corrected him. "You forget, Em and I were friends for a very, very long time," she said, not taking his proffered hand. If she touched him, he would be real and not like the fantasy man she'd plastered on her wall for comfort. If she touched him…

"I know," he replied, still waiting.

She took a deep breath and offered him her hand. It had been a long time since she'd had so much human contact. Probably too long, since the instant he touched her, she felt like someone had lit a sparkler and was drawing on her arm with it – white hot sparks of… something… tickled the nerves and made her snatch her hand away again.

He was watching her like she was crazy. Maybe she was.

"I'm Jennifer Jareau," JJ said. She didn't offer a hand, instead opting to hug Penelope. "It's wonderful to meet you. Please call me JJ. And don't hesitate to ask me if you need anything. These guys don't get it. They have to be handsome and brooding. We get to go get drunk and cry."

Penelope felt those pesky, stupid tears again. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"One of us stays with Garcia at all times outside this building," Hotchner said. "She is being monitored, but we protect family ourselves, yes?"

"Yeah," Rossi and Reid agreed.

Derek inclined his head. "I'll do it, Hotch," he said.

"She and I are going out tonight," JJ said. "We planned it days ago. You won't be needed, Morgan."

Penelope swallowed hard at the way he was looking at her. From the tips of her toes to the top of her head, she was tingling. This must be the famous 'Morgan Effect' that Emily had complained so much about. Oh dear, she really was in a world of trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

If you think that I own something by now, I laugh in your general direction. :D

Part three: 

"You shouldn't pay any attention to Morgan," JJ warned, pouring Penelope a glass of wine. Her son had developed a cold, so their plans to go out had fallen through. "He's very much a ladies' man."

"So Emily said," Penelope agreed, accepting the wine.

"Well, she almost had him whipped, finally," JJ said, chuckling. "Took a while, but he stopped looking at the model-type skinny bitches at the club."

Penelope looked down at herself, still in her office garb. What the fuck did he see in her, then?

Oh, wait: enormous monster tits. Yeah, that had to be it.

"Did you spill?" JJ asked worriedly, offering a napkin up.

Penelope hadn't spilled, but it was a convenient excuse. She dabbed convincingly at her blouse, then said, "I keep looking at my phone and waiting for Emily to call."

"You and me both."

"They gave me a new number as soon as they realized Doyle had called me," Penelope said very quietly. "So, yeah. Even if she were alive, she'd have to call my office."

"The office of supreme genius?" JJ teased.

Penelope surprised herself by blushing. "Yes, well –" She broke off and sighed. "I'm sorry, I just… I'm not good about talking about myself. There isn't much to tell that isn't locked up in the red tape of the CIA. I'm not married, I have a nine year old daughter named Emma Leigh, my favorite color is purple, except when it's pink, and I finally learned how to shoot a gun so I can finish Ian Doyle off before he finishes me."

JJ nodded. "It's okay – Emily and I were close. She's told me all about you, and even swore me to secrecy on a few things," she assured her. "The others don't know anything."

"I told Agent Hotchner –"

"Call him Hotch," JJ said.

"He told me to call him Aaron, but that's…"

"Weird?" JJ supplied.

"Yes. Anyway, I told him I was Oracle."

"He won't tell anyone else," JJ said. "He's the good guy, Penelope. You don't need to worry about the team. You're Prentiss's family: that makes you part of our family." She held up the wine bottle. "And right now, this part of the family needs to get smashed."

* * *

><p>May 13, 2011 <p>

They walked into the church as a group. JJ had Henry on her hip, and Will at her side, but she held Penelope's hand. Derek Morgan walked at her other side, his hand splayed protectively against her back. They were guided to the front of the chapel, where Penelope and Derek were seated behind Emily's family.

She saw the security details lurking and wondered just how safe she was in a room full of FBI agents.

She'd worn a simple black sheath dress and sensible pumps. She looked like goddamn Jackie Kennedy, and she felt just as miserable. This was it: Emily was really gone. No more phone calls, no more inappropriate text messages or half-assed renditions of 99 Beers on the Wall during 'drink till you puke' night.

She still had the gun strapped to her inner thigh. It wasn't going anywhere.

The service was a blur. She just sat there with a little packet of Kleenex in her hand until she was called up to speak to the congregation.

Penelope pulled out her cheat sheet of notes and looked down at Emily's mother. Everything she'd jotted down was silly, stupid, something that didn't make sense now. She held up the piece of paper and tore it into strips, then tore the strips apart.

"I wanted to talk about Emily, but everything I wanted to talk about doesn't matter anymore," Penelope said into the mic, her voice tinny in the speakers. "Emily Prentiss is dead. We all know that and we have to live with it the best we know how, now. She was my best friend. She taught me how to fillet a fish and use the same knife to disable an opponent in combat. She stayed on the phone line with me the night my daughter was born and made me hack the phone company and take the charges off when she got the bill. She was as loyal and beautiful a person as I've ever met in this world and the fact that she's not here anymore is killing me. But I'm never going to forget her, and I'm never going to forgive her for leaving us. This too may pass, but… she isn't coming back. And I'm not okay with that." She looked down at the confetti in her hands. "She would tell us to get over it. But I'm not sure I'm okay with that, either." She looked out at the congregation and pressed a kiss to the confetti before she threw it out into the crowd, watching it flutter down in idle patterns, catching the air currents and dancing.

She stepped down from the pulpit and straight into Ambassador Prentiss's arms, the older woman holding onto her for dear life. There were no more words: they weren't necessary. Penelope was led to the family pew, settled next to the Ambassador, left to hold her best friend's mother's hand through the worst day of her life.

When it came time to leave for the cemetery, she rode with the Ambassador in silence. Derek was a pall-bearer, along with Reid, Hotchner, Rossi and Will: they were riding together in another SUV directly behind them.

They pulled into the cemetery and Penelope stepped out of the SUV first. Someone caught her wrist and pulled her out roughly, twisting her arm behind her back. "Don't say a word, Princess. Walk with me."

The Ambassador had exited the other side of the SUV.

Everyone else was already heading toward the burial site.

She was alone: with Ian fucking Doyle.

"I said walk," he hissed, shoving her roughly toward a copse of trees. She stumbled and went down on her knees, dragging him down toward the ground with her. "Get the fuck up."

Snipers. Snipers in buildings around the perimeter.

She had to get near enough to the perimeter that they would see her. There was no way she could get her gun with one hand with a knife pressed into her back.

She could scream: but he would likely slit her throat.

She had a panic button.

She reached up to toy with her earring for a moment. She brushed the button and stared at Ian. He had to remember that she did that when she was nervous: if not, he might just kill her.

"Get up, Penelope," he ordered. "And at least fucking say hello."

"Hello," she whispered as he yanked her to her feet.

"Did you really, honestly think that I wouldn't know you?" Ian asked, moving in to kiss her. She turned her head away. He hit her hard enough that she saw stars. "Stupid bitch." He shoved her against a tree and started feeling her up. He very effectively disarmed her when he began working her skirt up her thighs.

"Put your hands in the air, motherfucker," Derek Morgan said.

"Oh, I don't think so," Doyle replied.

"Baby Girl, are you okay?" Derek inquired.

"Don't," Doyle warned, the tip of the knife pressing against her gut.

All of her training was failing her miserably.

She caught Derek's eyes and hoped to god he didn't know she was paralyzed with fear. She wasn't putting up a fight and she wasn't going to be able to help him.

"What the hell do you think you're going to get out of this, Doyle?" Morgan asked. "You already killed Emily Prentiss; you really think we're going to let you hurt Penelope Garcia, too?"

Doyle smirked, moving in to kiss Penelope with ardor. "Remember, Princess?" he whispered. "Remember how good we were together?"

She inhaled shakily. "I…"

He slammed her head against the tree. "You broke my heart and I'm going to tear yours out while your little FBI pet boy watches," Doyle hissed against her ear, angling the knife so it began to press into her ribcage.

She heard rustling in the grass as she panted out obscenities in agony. The knife was going to kill her if she didn't do something –

Several sets of footsteps, and then a single gunshot.

She was on the ground and she was looking up into bright sunlight through the trees. She didn't know if she was dead or alive.

JJ and Derek crouched over her and she had to believe she was alive. "Hey, hey, don't move," Derek scolded.

"Ian –"

"He's very dead," JJ said, almost proudly. "I came up from the side and Hotch and Rossi took the other side."

"Medics are on the way," Derek assured her.

"I…"

"Don't try to talk," JJ instructed.

Penelope wanted to tell them that she was cold, but she couldn't make her mouth work anymore. Her hands started shaking and she was seeing stars right before she lost consciousness.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing that hit her was an intense pain in her ribs. The second thing that hit her like a train on the tracks to nowhere was the fact that she hadn't even been able to defend herself when caught by surprise. She was a miserable operative.

She inhaled deeply and winced, but she swung her legs over the side of the bed and yanked the IV line out of her arm. The noise she made stumbling around was enough to bring several people into the room.

"Whoa, whoa, lie back down," Hotchner said, grabbing her arm and propelling her back toward the bed.

"I have to get out of here," Penelope said, her anxiety rising in waves, threatening to drown her. "I have to –"

"You have to nothing," Hotchner said with force. "You were stabbed, Garcia – centimeters more and you'd be dead. LIE DOWN."

The authority and frightening amount of anger in his voice made her panic recede and she complied meekly. Mere moments later, a nurse was in the room, checking her vitals and reconnecting the IV tubing.

Hotchner sat at her bedside and regarded her with a dispassionate stare. "You are one of the worst CIA operatives I've ever seen," he commented.

She rolled her eyes. "You think I haven't heard that a million times?" Penelope countered. "I need to call my daughter. She's staying with one of her teachers. I need to call her." The anxiety began to creep up her belly like heartburn again.

"Tell me the number and I'll dial," Hotchner agreed. She complied and he held the phone. "Hello, this is SSA Hotchner with the FBI; I'm calling on behalf of Penelope Garcia – she wants to speak to her daughter." He passed the phone to Penelope.

"Mama!" Emma cried. "I got 100% on my project!"

Penelope's lips curved into a smile. "Good job, sweetness! Think you can keep that science grade up for me?"

Emma sighed. "I'll try."

"Monkey, I've got to stay here a few extra days," Penelope said sadly. "There were issues. I promise, I'm coming home as soon as I can."

"Can't I come up and see you?" Emma asked.

"You have school, Em."

"But I have all A's. I can skip a little –"

Penelope rolled her eyes and sighed. "Emma Leigh Garcia."

She heard Emma hesitate. "You promise you'll come home soon?"

"As soon as I can."

"But I can call you?"

"Always," Penelope promised. "BE GOOD."

"I am!"

"I mean extra special good," Penelope warned.

Emma huffed. "Okay, fine."

"I love you, Monkey," Penelope said, her eyes prickling with those stupid damn tears again. "I miss you."

"Miss you, too," Emma mumbled. "Love you, Mama."

"Give yourself a big hug for me."

"'Kay."

Then it was just a dial tone. Penelope frowned at the phone. Was her baby girl copping an attitude already? Puberty was still around a couple more corners, wasn't it?

Hotchner took the phone from her hand and hung it up. "Can I get you anything else?" he asked. "Water?"

"I can't stay here," Penelope said. "I hate hospitals."

"You're going to keep that ample ass of yours in that bed or I'm going to tie you to it," Derek Morgan's voice drawled slowly from the doorway. "Hotch, go home. Jack needs his dad."

"Agent Morgan volunteered to sit with you tonight and keep you company," Hotchner explained.

Penelope nodded and sighed. "I need to get out of here," she repeated.

"For once in your life, woman, would you shut your damn trap and rest?" Morgan said. "Emily said making you rest was like tying down a bear with strips of bacon."

"Huh?" Hotchner said.

"Futile effort," Penelope explained. "I really can't sit still for very long."

"That's why I brought duct tape," Morgan said, holding up a roll. "I won't hesitate to use it."

Hotchner smiled. "I leave you in well-meaning, but somewhat unorthodox hands, Garcia," he said, getting up and leaving the room.

Morgan took the chair beside the bed and said, "So…"

"So what?"

"Am I gonna have to use the duct tape?"

She shot him a less than convincing smile. "No?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You talked to your kid?"

Penelope nodded. "She's fine."

"Emily showed me the pictures you sent her," Morgan said, rolling the tape in his hands. "She's quite something."

Penelope laughed. "Emma thinks she's going to grow up to be the empress of the world."

"It's good to have goals," Morgan said with a smile. "Maybe not of world domination, but –"

"My only goal was to kill Ian Doyle before he killed me, and I couldn't even do that," she said bitterly. "I fucking froze like a greenhorn –"

"He had a knife and an advantage –"

"He scared the fuck out of me because, god help me, I did remember how fucking good we were together," Penelope said, turning furious eyes on him. "He had the upper hand because he knew I would remember that I sort of loved him in a sick, twisted, wrong way. He always had the upper hand, Agent Morgan."

"You hit the panic button," he reminded her.

"I knew if I didn't, he was going to kill me out of spite because I didn't fight back." Her shoulders slumped and she raised her hands to cover her eyes. "I can't explain this. I know it's all wrong, it's

bad; Emily isn't coming back to tell me I should've just kicked him in the balls and run like hell. I wish to god she was here."

"Me, too," Morgan agreed. "Believe me, you have no idea how much I wish she were here for you right now. I don't know where to start helping you."

"Let me help myself," Penelope said. "It's what I'm best at."


	4. Chapter 4

Oh, you silly, silly people: I still own nothing.

Part four:

* * *

><p>August 14, 2011<p>

Penelope Garcia had never in her entire fucking life been so glad that she'd quit her job and moved out of Cuba. Or, at least that's what she was telling herself. She'd been out of touch with the real world for so long that $3+ for a gallon of milk seemed excessive, and the price of gas was even worse.

That didn't stop her from buying a vintage Cadillac convertible in a heinously awful burnt orange color that was incredibly off-beat and endearing. She named it Esther after her sassy aunt and Emma loved the stupid car as much as she did.

So they had a real apartment, two bedrooms, and a real car and problems like grocery shopping and clothes shopping and picking a good school for Emma. And Penelope had to worry about her first day of her new job. The training had been quick, less than a week, but fierce and intense in a way that made her lose five pounds and complain of exhaustion at the end of the day. They were eating a lot of frozen pizza. Not that Emma minded, but Penelope wanted those five pounds to stay the fuck off her thighs.

She'd cut her hair to shoulder length and went back to blonde: it seemed ok, finally, not to be her natural brunette. Ian Doyle had spoiled her for that forever. She was fine now, aside from lingering anxiety, but she'd been put on a mild anti-depressant to help her sleep and even out her moods.

It was time to be a functional adult member of society and she was feeling those horrible anxious pangs as she tried to decide what to wear for her first day. She settled on a black dress with a cherry print on it and a light-weight red shrug, and her trademark black high heels. Good enough.

She donned green eyeshadow and her heavy black eyeliner, then glazed her lips in cherry red that matched her dress and tried to choose a pair of glasses. She finally settled on a pair with simple gold-toned frames. She was ready, but not really.

She breezed into the dining room and made sure that Emma had her cereal and milk before she poured her coffee and went to work on a smoothie. "You gonna be okay today, Monkey?" Penelope asked before pulsing blueberries, carrots, mango, yogurt and ice in the blender.

"I'll be okay," Emma said between bites of cereal. "You gonna be okay today, Mama?"

Penelope poured her smoothie into a travel cup. "Oh, I hope so. You have your keys in case I have to stay late?"

"Yeah…"

"And you remember the rules?"

"No metal in the microwave, no using the stove or oven, and there's apples and stuff for snacks," Emma said with a sigh. "Mama –"

"Hmm?" Penelope asked, raising an eyebrow over her mug.

"I thought we were going to stay in Cuba forever?"

Penelope smiled. She'd thought of it like a prison sentence, but Gitmo had been her daughter's only home. Being out in the open and loose and free was going to take some getting used to for the both of them. "Plans change, kiddo," she said. "But right now, my plan is to get you into the car and to school before I have to be in the office. So finish your breakfast."

Twenty minutes later, she was dropping Emma off at school and making a beeline across town. No sense in being late on her first day. She had to check in with her Section Chief, too, before being shown to her office.

She had a messenger bag full of things on one shoulder, her smoothie in one hand, and her laptop tucked safely under her arm. The elevator doors were set to close, so she hurried toward it, smiling at the man that held the doors for her. Derek Morgan.

She averted her eyes, suddenly uncomfortable with him. "Thank you," Penelope murmured, feeling like her mouth was full of cotton balls.

"What floor?" he asked.

"Uh, seven," Penelope lied.

He hit the button and said, "Maybe you'll work your way down to six sometime. Come and see me."

The suggestive leer in his voice made her turn her head toward him. Locking his gaze with hers, she smirked and murmured, "Then I couldn't say, 'come up and see me, Hot Stuff'."

They arrived at the sixth floor and he left the elevator, throwing an amused glance behind him. She winked back and took the elevator to the seventh floor, then rode back to the sixth. Dear god, now she had to think of ways to avoid him on her way in every day. No fair.

The FBI was supposed to be a normal chance at a normal job. Not torture.

She slipped past the bullpen and into Strauss's office without being noticed, then Strauss led Penelope to her 'lair': an office that had been converted into a most gloriously awesome den of cyberlovliness. She couldn't help but smile, seeing as how it was so much more glamorous than her last spare room office full of pictures of Emma and cobbled together equipment. This office meant business. It was perfection!

She shuffled around, moving things around and setting up the system so she had the most efficient workspace possible, then she broke out her supply of crazy pens and happy fun things. She had just gotten comfortable in her swiveling chair of doom, slurping away on her smoothie when she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," she called.

"Sorry, but I was gonna ask you if you could keep it down in here," Morgan said, poking his head into her office. "I'm trying to do some paperwork and it sounds like you're – oh, hello." He smirked at her.

"Hello, and I'm done moving things," she replied, going back to her drink. "Can I help you with anything, Agent Morgan?"

"You're the new tech?" he asked, appraising her with that smug little smirk.

She finally set aside her cup and stood up, extending her hand. "Penelope Garcia," she greeted. "Formerly of the CIA."

He lost the smirk and just stared at her, looking like she'd just slapped him. "No way –"

"I've lost weight," she said, feeling really very exposed. "And I told the Agency to go screw themselves. I'm the new tech guru for the BAU teams."

He was still staring at her.

"Oh, c'mon, say something," she pleaded.

"You called me 'hot stuff'," he accused.

She shrugged. "So?"

"That's not very profess-"

She rolled her eyes and held up a hand. "Oh please, like you don't have women propositioning you every day," she scoffed. "The Derek Morgan, god of male beauty and perfect abs."

"You're really here to stay?" he asked.

"You betcha," Penelope replied cheerfully. "In fact, I have some files I need to distribute to the Alpha team in a bit, so you'll see me sooner than you think, Hot Stuff." She didn't mean to say the last bit; it just kind of slipped out.

He scowled at her for a moment, then it turned back into a smile. "I like you better as a blonde," he said. "Welcome to the BAU, Garcia." And then he was gone.

Yeah, life was going to suck till she settled in.

* * *

><p>August 15, 2011<p>

"We're wheels up in an hour," Hotch told Penelope. "You'll be staying here, but you'll be on-call till we've finished the case."

"Does that mean I need to stay in the building?" Penelope asked. "I have to take care of Emma –"

"As long as you can connect to the FBI system from home, you can work wherever," Hotch said.

"Oh, I can definitely do that," she assured him.

"You'll need to keep your cell charged and on you at all times," he said firmly.

"Except in the shower," she pointed out with a smile.

She didn't expect him to smile back, let alone chuckle. "Garcia, you are a welcome breath of fresh air," he said, handing over her official FBI cell phone. "Company phone, no outside calls," he warned.

"Yes, sir," she agreed, taking the phone and smiling. "I feel like one of the good guys now."

"No, that comes when you get your firearms training," Hotch replied, heading out of her lair.

She wasn't really that surprised when Derek Morgan took up a quick residence in her doorway. "You gonna be okay while we're gone?"

"No," Penelope replied, not even looking at him as she settled back in at the desk with her coffee. "I'm going to be pining away, wishing I could see you…"

"Hey, no sarcasm!" he chuckled.

She looked over at him and winked.

He grinned back at her. "Seriously, you think you can handle this beast till we get back? It's only your second day."

She chuckled. "My second day with the CIA, I was hacking the FBI to get the skinny on some guy in the Denver office. I think I can handle this."

He held up his hands. "Okay, but you've got me on speed dial if you need anything."

She raised an eyebrow. "Anything? That's a loaded offer, Hot Stuff."

If he was a little bit less of a Cassanova at heart, he would've blushed. Instead, he blew her a saucy kiss and retreated from her doorway.

Penelope fanned herself with one of the files she was referencing and wondered if it was just her that warmed up when Derek Morgan walked into a room. Ugh, not professional at all.

* * *

><p>August 16, 2011<p>

"Forget the paperwork till tomorrow," Penelope heard Hotch order loudly from the bullpen through her open office door as the team arrived home. "Garcia brought us home in record time, so I think it's time to go have drinks."

Penelope got up and walked to her door. "Could you keep it down a little in here? I'm on the phone with Beta team," she explained.

"Sorry," Hotch said, looking a little chagrined.

JJ just smiled up at her and winked.

The team was happy, sans Spencer Reid, but that was becoming the norm. Penelope had yet to see him smile in her three days at work. She went back in and finished her call with the leader of Beta Team, then reemerged. "What were you yelling about, boss?" she inquired.

Everyone was still in the bullpen, talking and relaxing and sorting out files and paperwork for the next morning. Apparently, it had been decided that things could wait, for once.

"We're going out for drinks, Garcia," Hotch replied. "You're very much welcome to come with us."

"That's code for party time!" JJ exclaimed, laughing.

"You comin', Mama?" Derek asked with a wink.

She thought about it for a moment, then said, "I can't – I need to get home to Emma and make sure she's done her homework and not burned down the apartment."

"Bring her with," Rossi said. "We'll do dinner instead. I know this great Italian place…"

"I don't know," Penelope hedged. Part of her wanted to be closer to the team, but part of her was hollering that she needed to keep her distance.

"I don't know about anyone else, but I'd love to meet your daughter," Reid spoke up, finally.

"Hells yes," Rossi said, and everyone else nodded their agreement.

It took Penelope a grand total of ten seconds to weigh everything in terms of pros, cons, and whether or not she would regret it either way she chose, then she nodded. "I guess I'll go get her and meet you wherever," she said. She ducked back into her office and called Emma's phone, but didn't get a reply. Her brow creased and she called the landline. No reply. "Shit, shit, goddamn motherfucking hell," she swore under her breath. She checked the voicemail on her personal cell and her work cell, then finally breathed a sigh of relief when she found a voicemail on her personal work line talking about being late home because Emma was at the library, and her new friend's mom was going to bring her home about six. She quickly dialed Emma's cell again and left a voicemail. "Don't you EVER do that to me again, Emma Leigh Garcia! Leave it on my cell, not the work number! I thought someone had fucking taken you! I want you to change clothes when you get home and we're going to talk about this in the car BEFORE we go to dinner. Do you hear me?" She hung up and turned around to see Rossi and Hotch standing just outside her doorway, looking concerned. "I…" her voice broke. "I couldn't get her on the house number or her personal number and she left a voicemail on the work phone and… I panicked."

"Understandable," Rossi said. "We were just worried when you started screaming. Your kid's probably going to have a heart attack when she hears that message."

"I certainly hope so!" Penelope cried.

Hotch hid a smile, then said, "Maybe you should close up shop and go get her? Rossi will send you an address, and you just need to show up at seven."

Penelope took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah," she agreed.

At ten minutes to seven, Penelope was straightening Emma's skirt and sighing. "Seriously, kiddo, you need to learn to dress yourself," she scolded.

Emma rolled her eyes. "My clothes are fine and you turned my skirt backwards, mom," she sighed. "Why are you being weird?"

"Because you're going to meet the people I work with and you look like a heathen –"

"The back pockets are supposed to be on the front," Emma protested, stepping back and turning her skirt around again. "Stop being weird, Mama. What is this place? It looks like a castle."

"It's Agent Rossi's house," Penelope said. "He's going to make us supper."

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Mama," she whined.

"Yes, I know, you don't like food that I don't cook," Penelope sighed. "But you're going to be polite and try to like it."

Emma frowned. "Fine," she muttered. "You should stop stressing about these people liking you. Everybody likes you. Chill."

Penelope huffed. "Not everybody likes me, Monkey," she said.

Emma rolled her eyes and sighed. "Mama. Just ring the guy's doorbell and stop being crazy."

Penelope grumbled under her breath and pressed the doorbell. Rossi appeared seconds later with a big grin on his face. "Welcome, welcome, to my home," he greeted. He looked down at Emma. "You must be…"

"Emma Leigh Garcia," Emma replied. "And you're one of my mom's bosses."

"Not her boss," Rossi corrected with a smile. "Just a friend."

Emma turned and said, "I told you so, Mama. Everybody likes you."

Penelope blushed as scarlet as her shoes.

Rossi smiled and said, "Come on in and get comfortable. The rest of the team will be here soon."

"Hotch said seven," Penelope said.

"Yeah, but seven means about eight," Rossi said, chuckling.

"My bedtime's nine," Emma announced.

"Because you're supposed to be studying," Penelope said.

Emma sighed dramatically. "Mama, I'm not a baby."

Rossi winked at Penelope and said, "Of course not, kiddo. Do you want to help me get things together for dinner? You can help wash the salad stuff."

"I don't like anything my Mama doesn't cook," Emma said.

Penelope's cheeks flushed again. "Dave, I'm sorry," she began.

He cut her off. "Would you like me to teach your Mama how to cook something very yummy for you?" he asked. Emma nodded. "And then she can cook it and you'll like it, right?" Emma nodded again.

"I can't just take over your kitchen," Penelope protested.

"I'll be guiding you the whole way," Rossi said. "You like wine?"

"No," Emma said, making a face.

"I have juice for you," he replied, looking expectantly at Penelope.

"Red wine," Penelope said.

"I have several," he said with a smile. "So come in and rest a while."

Emma giggled. "Give me your hand, little one," he said, offering his hand. Emma took it and he led her inside to the kitchen. Penelope followed behind them, taking off her wrap as she did. When she reached the kitchen, she put the wrap and her purse on the bar top, and watched Rossi pick her daughter up and put her on a bar stool. "Now, you put your feet up and relax. Watch me teach your mom to make something delicious."

"I don't eat meats," Emma announced. "I'm a vegetarian."

Penelope sighed and gave her child a Look. "Emma, what did I tell you about being polite?"

"Well, I don't and neither do you!" Emma exclaimed.

"I'll teach you to make the most delicious pasta," Rossi said, winking at Penelope. "And, no matter what your mother says, if you think it's important, you should say it, Little One."

"I'm not little," Emma protested with a scowl.

"Emma," Penelope snapped, "behave."

"Garcia, c'mere," Rossi instructed. He walked her through the steps of making a simple spaghetti with olive oil, garlic, pepper flakes, black pepper, and parsley. She triumphantly handed over a plate of food for her daughter, who smiled and tucked into it like nothing had ever happened.

"Do you want me to make you another batch?" Rossi inquired with a smile. "Since you don't eat meat, and the others will be having linguine with a proscutto and cream sauce?"

"That would be great," Penelope replied, sighing. "I'm sorry we got here so early –"

"So early?" Hotch asked. "How early did you get here?"

"Half an hour ago," Rossi said. "She's punctual."

"Ah, well, I had to drop Jack with Jessica, so I'm slightly late," Hotch said, pulling up a stool next to Emma. "You must be Emma," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Aaron."

"Hi, Aaron," Emma said shyly, shaking his hand. "You work with my Mama?"

"I'm her boss."

"Oh. Does she work good? You aren't going to fire her or anything?"

Hotch smiled. "Your mother is invaluable."

"Which means, what?"

"It means she's not going anywhere."

"Good." Emma looked over at her mother. "Mama, does that mean we're staying here for real?"

"If you want, Monkey," Penelope said, trying to smile, but it didn't quite work like it should've.

"I want," Emma said, turning her attention back to her dinner.

"Well, that's a good thing," Rossi said, "because we want you to stay, too."

Emma grinned up at him and slurped up a noodle.

"Hey, what'd we miss?" Morgan asked as he and JJ came in. "Reid can't make it – his mom is having issues and he's on the phone with her."

"You missed Emma committing her mother to staying here forever," Rossi said with a chuckle.

"I think I need some of that wine about now," Penelope sighed.

"Emma is a charming young woman," Rossi said, gesturing at the blonde girl in pigtails who was slurping up another noodle.

JJ laughed and said, "It's good to finally meet you, Emma – I'm JJ."

"I talked to you on the phone once," Emma said.

"You bet," JJ replied.

"You're nice."

"To people I like," JJ specified.

"Cool," Emma replied, looking over at Morgan. "Who are you?"

"My name is Derek," he said. "And you look just like your Mama."

"Everybody says that," Emma sighed, rolling her eyes for the thousandth time.

"Stop rolling your eyes," Penelope muttered. "It's rude and disrespectful."

"Mama…"

"Don't sass your Mama," Derek warned Emma.

"Yes, sir," Emma said, going back to her food.

"How did you –" Penelope asked as Rossi handed her a glass of wine and a plate of pasta. "She never –"

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes, it just takes outside perspective," he said.

"Well, feel free to come over and bring some of that perspective with you," Penelope said. "Because she gets worse by the hour."

"I do not," Emma said. "You're SO STRESSED, Mama."

Penelope didn't say a word, but she knew the look on her face was nothing but stricken. Damn, her kid could NOT hold back her punches. She felt a strong arm around her shoulders and blinked up at Derek Morgan. "I –"

"It's okay," he said. "Drink as much as you want. I'll drive you guys home. Just try to relax a little. Enjoy yourself." He squeezed her shoulders gently.

It was such a small gesture, but it meant the world to her. She was already accepted into the clique, one of their own, and it really did mean everything. It was going to take her a while to get used to being a team player, though.

Penelope Garcia was used to being in charge. Taking orders instead of issuing them was cramping her style. But she liked her co-workers and she liked the job, and for that piece of heaven, she'd fight like hell.


	5. Chapter 5

Yeah, I still don't own anything. It's funny that people think I do, though.

* * *

><p>Part five:<p>

August 17, 2011

It was too bright: she must've forgotten to pull down the shades when she'd gotten home. Rossi hadn't exactly helped by plying her with more wine and more wine and –

Penelope groaned and rolled over to slap at her alarm clock, stifling a shriek when she realized she wasn't exactly alone in her bed. Or wearing any clothes. At all.

And she was well and truly aching in places she hadn't been sore in quite some fucking time, no pun intended.

"Oh dear GOD," she yelped, getting tangled in her sheets and falling off the bed, smacking her head on the nightstand in the process. "Oh…"

Derek Morgan peered cautiously over the edge of the bed. "You okay down there?" he asked.

Well, that cemented it: this was officially the worst day ever.

"I… fell over," she said, stating the obvious. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. She had a nervous, squeamish feeling in her belly, but he just kept watching her trying to get out of the tangle of sheets without exposing herself.

"Baby Girl, you don't have to hide from me," Derek said with a smile. "I've seen it already."

"OH GOD," she said, eyes widening. "Please tell me we at least used a condom –"

"Three," he replied.

All the blood drained from her face and she sat back down on the floor. "I – I don't know –" She looked up at him. "We broke all the fraternization rules –"

"Rules like that are meant to be broken," Derek said with a shrug.

It all came rushing back to her with those words; every lust-riddled sensation, every kiss, every aching need. And, most of all, him. He'd encouraged her and made sure she was well satisfied by the time they were done. And again. And again.

Her headache increased tenfold.

"You're –" She put her head in her hands, letting the sheets fall.

"Right now, I'm getting pretty horny again."

"It's Wednesday morning!" Penelope groaned, peeping at him through her fingers. "And my daughter is in the next room!"

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"I'm having a nervous breakdown! I don't just – fuck people! Especially not my best friend's –"

"Emily is dead," he reminded her. "She's not going to care if we find relief together."

"Dear God, don't be fucking RATIONAL about this!" Penelope cried, launching to her feet and rushing for the bathroom, not sure she could keep from throwing up. It turned out to be a false alarm, but she stayed in the bathroom just in case.

Unfortunately, he followed her. He leaned against the doorway and watched her. Stark naked. Gloriously, incredibly, holy hell stark naked. And very aroused.

She couldn't meet his eyes, just stare at –

He chuckled. "Baby Girl, we had a hell of a lot of fun last night for you to be getting shy on me now," he scolded.

"I was drunk –"

"No, you really weren't," Derek insisted. "You were very much in control."

"My head is killing me –"

"No more of Rossi's wine," he said with an amused smile. "Why do you think I didn't drink any?"

Penelope's mouth made a little 'o' of surprise. "I didn't notice –"

"I know."

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I feel like crap."

"Yeah," Derek said. "You don't look so great."

"Ugh." She looked up at him again. "Did I at least fuck you well?" she asked in a tone that was a little snappish, but a little shyly hesitant at the same time. Shit, she shouldn't have to ask a guy about how she was in bed: she should KNOW she rocked them. But it had been so long since she'd rocked anything but a recliner that it wasn't even funny.

He raised an eyebrow.

She lifted her hands in surrender. "Okay, fine, I know it was good for me, but I was so beyond drunk –"

"Baby Girl," he began.

She cut him off. "I'm not your baby girl."

"Penelope, then – is that better?"

She sighed. This was not how it was supposed to be. "No," she whispered.

"Then Baby Girl, and I'll have to earn my right to call you that," he said softly. "I'll work for it." He knelt beside her on the cold tile floor and kissed her very softly. "You might have been drunk, but you were one of the best I've been with. I'd love to have a sober encore sometime – when you feel better about what happened."

"You were going to marry my best friend."

He shrugged. "Maybe so, but I can't do that now, can I?"

"So you'll just go back to your old ways?" Penelope breathed against his lips.

"No –"

"What do you call last night?" she murmured, kissing him again.

"Comfort."

She glared at him defensively. "I am not a slut, I do not sleep with someone on the first –"

"Baby Girl," Derek whispered, pressing his forehead to hers; maybe he was trying to get some brainwave from him to go through her thick skull. "I am not accusing you of anything. I want you to know that it was damn good for me and if you want no strings… I can do that, too."

"We have to go to work and I have to take Emma to school –"

"Your car is at Rossi's," he reminded her, "so you're stuck with me a while longer. How's your head?"

"Throbbing." She paused. "Like every other part of me."

"You have some aspirin anywhere?"

She gestured at the medicine cabinet. He found the bottle, tucked in among her vitamins, her anti-inflammatory pills, her birth control, and a myriad of other things that were personal, and he tipped two pills out. "Why don't you let me go make some coffee –"

"We both need a shower," she pointed out.

"Yes, and you need coffee." He held out the pills. "Don't press your luck, Baby Girl."

"Penelope," she countered. "Please just call me Penelope. There's never going to be a day now when 'Baby Girl' doesn't hurt." Penelope took the pills from him and tossed them back without more than a few heavy swallows that left her a little green. "You should shower first."

"Why?"

"Because I'm still feeling queasy," she countered. "Rossi's bad wine, and a little self-loathing for good measure."

He threw his hands up in the air. "You are stubborn as hell," Derek accused. "I was going to suggest showering together to –"

"Uh-uh," she said, shaking her head. "I am not going to show you a good morning."

His face was unreadable, so she looked away. He was seeing her at her absolute worst: hungover, chubby, makeup probably smeared like raccoon circles around her eyes. Of course he'd want to leave as soon as possible. She'd made a mistake, yet again.

And then he was turning her chin, looking into her eyes, and giving her another one of those damnably lustful, intoxicating kisses that made her feel like she was the only woman on the planet. Damn him. When he pulled away, she bit her lip, opening her eyes and whimpering.

"Emily broke off the engagement," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Neither of us were really invested in the relationship. Don't feel guilty because you think she'd be mad at you or jealous or whatever is running through that thick skull of yours. We loved each other, but not enough to make marriage work." He reached out and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "I should've told you the truth."

If anything, his admission made her feel worse. She tried so valiantly to hold back the sudden flood of anguish that exploded in her, but it was a futile effort. Now she had to add 'sobbing uncontrollably' to her list of less than desirable attributes. But he was holding her, kissing her tears away, not scared in the slightest.

Why? He didn't know her from Eve: why the fuck did he care? She knew far more about him than he did her; god knew she'd spent hours listening to Emily pour her heart out. Why would he treat her with such… compassion? She'd scratched the word love before it had even formed in her head.

No one loved her but Emma. Everyone else held her in high regard, but with Emily gone, Emma was all she had left. She was lonely, broken, suffering far more than she would ever let on. She'd given up everything for so long that she didn't know how to accept anything in return.

When the torrent began to subside, he wiped her tears away, the slight calluses on his thumbs catching just a little on the ruddy, hot skin of her cheeks. "Penelope," he whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Everything hurts me," she protested on a hoarse whisper. "It's not your fault I'm a mess."

He gently grasped her elbow and helped her to her feet. She lost her grip on the sheet and it pooled at her feet, her mouth opening in protest, but no sound managed to escape. "Mama," he said on a murmur, "let me take care of you for a few minutes, okay?"

"Why would you want to?" she asked.

"Because I want to. Because you need a friend."

"I think we're a little past the friend stage," she countered.

"No way, Mama," he replied. "C'mon, we need to get a move-on."

"Morgan –"

"Derek," he corrected in a firm tone.

"Derek –" She stopped speaking and shook her head as he guided her into the tub. He stepped in behind her and pulled the curtain behind him. She'd never felt more claustrophobic or more anxious than in the moment she realized he was going to take a shower with her. Now he had to see everything she tried to keep hidden from the world, and she would be left completely vulnerable and at his mercy. "Derek, please, don't –"

"Don't what?" he asked, starting the water, getting it to a good, warm temperature before he pulled the thingie on the faucet for the shower, drowning out anymore protests she might have.

As soon as the warm water hit her, Penelope felt exposed. Dirty, even. Like the night before had been a total waste of any friendship they might have had. She didn't want him for sex – not really. She wanted a friend, a hero, someone that could take away her ills and leave her with a smile. Her voice caught in her throat when he pushed her under the water, his nimble fingers working their way through her hair, getting it wet. "That's a girl," he said in a soothing tone. "Just relax and let me help."

There was no relaxing. She was as taut as a bow string, ready to fire, ready to ignite a conflagration that would devour them both alive. She held back, her lip between her teeth, as he washed her hair and smiled down at her. When he dunked her back into the water to rinse her hair, she bit down hard enough to draw blood.

Only one man had showered with her before, and he had been cruel, rough, manhandling her against the wall, making her cum with some kind of wild wantoness that she hadn't known to exist. Ian Doyle hadn't ever been the tall, dark, handsome type – he'd been the make you hate yourself for wanting more type, and boy, had he been damn good at it. Derek Morgan was Ian Doyle's complete opposite: he took his time cleaning her up, focusing more on her needs than his own. He was treating her like he loved every moment of soaping her down and washing her up.

When he dipped down her legs, she stopped him. "No, no," she whispered, catching his hand. "You don't have to…"

He'd already made her shiver despite the warm water and want more despite herself. If he touched her anymore, she would lose any faith she had left in herself to walk away and start building a friendship with him instead of using him as a fuck buddy.

His response was a kiss that warmed her from head to toe, settling in her pelvis, daring her to keep protesting to the contrary that she didn't want him to continue. A kiss that set her on fire, a kiss that she replied to with an earnest need that she couldn't hide. He just did things to her that made her want to forget the past, forget the future, and just live in a moment forever with him.

One kiss turned into many, hot, deep, luring her into a false sense of desiring as much as he could give, and then some. A little voice in the back of her head screamed for her to stop and run away, but she couldn't give in. Her demons were winning over her better angels, and she couldn't fight them off again. Derek tasted like hope, freedom, love – everything she craved and nothing she could hold onto for more than a fleeting second.

His hands skimmed her breasts, caressed her belly, landed on her hips and pulled her closer. She couldn't run anymore than she pretended that she was okay: her hands glided through the curtain of the water from the showerhead, running over his back and landing on his ass, pulling him closer still. If she was going to hell for sinning, she might as well make it a hell of a good one – on repeat.

There was nothing but them. No reason, no truth, no justice – just two people clinging onto the fragility of themselves. And each other.

She didn't want him to regret this. She didn't want to regret it, either.

His hand slid between them, caressing her thigh, then moving inward. When he brushed her clit with gentle pressure, her knees almost buckled. She broke the kiss and panted, "Playing with fire, handsome?"

His eyes gleamed with lust and mirth. "Hell, yeah, Mama."

"I am not your Mama," she growled, the growl turning into a mewl when he flicked his thumb against her. "Fuck, that's not fair," Penelope whimpered as he went on the attack. Every tiny movement of his fingers echoed in her very bloodstream, raising her heartbeat into a frantic rhythm. "Der-ek," she croaked, the word being too hard to speak without her voice cracking. God, he certainly knew what he was doing.

He smirked and moved in for the kill. The look he was giving her was enough to make her feel tiny and exposed, almost threatened. His kiss was enough to melt the paint right off a firetruck, and his touch was intoxicating. He kept her in a state of strung-out bliss, just on one side of complete ecstasy, hovering on the edge of a keenly-honed knife blade of pleasure. When he replaced fingers with his cock, she came undone, flying off into some realm of insanity. He didn't even give her a chance to recover her wits before he was taking her on a ride into the clouds. Every thrust, every dirty little secret he whispered into her ear on a possessive growl, every panting moan on her part, every desperate kiss – she was giving up the fight and finally surrendered, jumping off the precipice into his waiting arms.

And he was there to catch her.

She exhaled shakily into his shoulder, kissing the spot where she'd bitten him to muffle her shrieks. "Sorry, Hot Stuff," Penelope whispered. "I didn't mean to –"

Derek withdrew from her and smiled. "No worries," he assured her. "Hottest shower sex ever, by the way."

She opened her mouth to protest, but realized in a split second that he'd managed to befuddle her memory – Doyle had been replaced already in her mind by the burning bright image of her knight in shining armor. What was she? A lovesick kid? Fuck, she was off the path and in the wild now. "Yeah," she finally agreed on a quiet whisper, reaching for the bodywash. "Let me," she insisted when he moved to stop her. "You've done so much for me, Derek."

He acquiesced and she let her hands massage the suds into his skin. She memorized the planes of his abdomen, the sinew of his thighs and arms, took great joy in grabbing his ass (much to his consternation), and lavishing attention on every part of him. Even if he walked away, she would have that burned into her mind – she would never willingly give him up. Was she prepared to fight to keep him with her? She didn't know. But she would fight for every moment he was willing to give her.

By the time they got out of the shower, Penelope was already behind schedule and it didn't surprise her that Derek's feathers weren't even ruffled by the delay. In fact, he rather looked like the cat that was stalking a particularly succulent bit of birdly prey. She just happened to be the bird in the scenario and it was all she could do to keep him from dragging her back into bed when she pulled on her stockings and clipped them to her garters. "Derek! Behave!" Penelope gasped, trying to evade his roaming hands. "Stop it – we have to –" She squealed when he kissed her neck. "Seriously, stop it!"

"Have dinner with me tonight."

The invitation hung between them on gossamer threads of want, need, desire.

She licked her lips and pulled away from him, grabbing her skirt and pulling it on. "I'm not just free to do whatever, Derek," she said in a quiet voice. "I have to consider Emma's needs, too."

His eyes glittered steel. "I want you to bring her, too – what, you think everything has to be about sex?" he challenged teasingly, despite the sharpness in his eyes. She knew he'd been hurt a few times too many, just like she had. It took a lot to trust, and even more to believe in someone else so much that you could really let your guard down.

Penelope nodded and shrugged into a blouse, her fingers shaking as she did up the buttons. "I'd like that," she said. "Now, you should get dressed and let me finish getting ready, or we're going to be late."

When she'd dried her hair and applied her makeup, she headed into the kitchen, a little surprised to see him reading the paper with coffee in hand, and Emma sitting at the kitchen bar with her cereal and a smile on her lips as Derek read her a story about penguins at the National Zoo. It was altogether a little too cozy to seem real.

"Emma thinks we should get sushi tonight," Derek said, adding a drawn out, "Penelope."

"Mr. Morgan doesn't think it's weird that I like octopus," Emma piped up.

"I don't think that's weird," Penelope reminded her daughter, "I just think it's gross."

Emma grinned at her. "Octopus is good when the suction cups stick to your throat," she said in an effort to rile her mother up.

Unfortunately, it had the intended effect and Penelope felt herself turning green as Kermit the Frog. "Maybe sushi is a bad idea," Derek interjected before she could get sick. "How about Vietnamese? There's a great place in Georgetown."

"Sounds great," Penelope said weakly.

"You gonna make your smoothie, Mama? It's almost time to go," Emma said, finishing her cereal and dropping her bowl into the sink. She stopped long enough to give her mother a hug, then ran off to get her backpack and books that were strung across the living room in a hurricane of kidliness.

Penelope sighed and poured herself a mug of coffee. Between Mr. Sexy Tightpants at her kitchen table and Miss Eat Nasty Things in the living room, it was going to be a hell of a long day.


	6. Chapter 6

I wish I owned this and not my crappy day job and lousy debt.

* * *

><p>Part six:<p>

August 17, 2011

Day four of her new life, and it threw her a curve ball in the form of Kevin Lynch. She couldn't very well call Derek Morgan a curveball when he was more of a change-up. He broke all the rules and did it whenever it suited him.

She looked up from her desk to see a rather slovenly man in her doorway, bearing new parts for her computers. "Can I help you?" Penelope inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Just admiring the view," the man replied, gesturing at her workspace. Her eyebrow raised further till she felt like Spock on a bender. "I brought the parts from lockup that you requested for the hardware upgrade." He stepped forward and offered her a hand. "Kevin Lynch. This used to be my office, till they sent me one too many gruesome pictures and I requested a transfer back to the tech pool."

She eyed him warily. "Leave the parts," she ordered. "I'll do the upgrade myself. I'm Penelope Garcia, and I doubt they can send me anymore gruesome pictures than I saw at the CIA." She smiled sweetly at him and gestured at an open spot on the desk. "Seriously, leave the stuff and I'll take care of it, Mr. Lynch."

He was too busy looking over her shoulder, watching the insane amount of data scrolling by on all of her screens. "How the hell do you –"

She tapped a simple two-keystroke execution and cut the monitors. "Mr. Lynch, can I ask you to just leave the damn parts and leave now? I'm trying to correlate data for the Beta Team, and I don't need someone breathing down my goddamn neck while I'm doing it!"

"You need to go out with me," Lynch said firmly.

"The fuck I do!" Penelope exploded. "You just think you can waltz in here on the pretense of bringing me upgrade parts and then just demand that I go out with you? I don't think so! Get out of my office! NOW!"

He looked like he was a puppy and she'd kicked him. "Yeah, but –"

"But what?" she asked testily.

"But you're not at all like I thought you'd be – you're HOT." He looked like a besotted teenager and that just made everything that much worse.

She rolled her eyes and pointed at the door. "GO."

"But –"

"I swear to GOD if you don't leave now, I will NOT be held responsible for your paycheck disappearing from the Bureau's records," she said, raising her voice and rising to her feet. "Don't make me angry, Mr. Lynch. I am not having a good day and you're –"

"What do you need 3TB of SDRAM for anyway?"

"GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!" she shouted, her hands clenching into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. She was about to ruin her manicure and the rest of her day by proving to him just why it wasn't smart to mess with an agent trained to kill. Stupid men: they were just incapable of listening.

"Is there a problem in here?" Morgan inquired from the doorway. "Sounds like World War III."

"I was just leaving," Lynch said. "You should rethink that date, Garcia –"

"GET OUT!" Penelope screamed, spluttering in rage and embarrassment.

"I'm just saying –"

"She told you to get out, Lynch," Derek said. "I'd suggest you do it before she gets it in her head to stab you with a pen."

Lynch's eyes widened and he took off with breakneck speed, leaving Penelope ready to hit things and do damage to a few inconsequential things like pay rates and taxes. She fell back into her chair and thumped her hand hard enough on the desk that she winced. "What the fuck?" she finally said, looking at Derek. "Do I scream 'desperate geek looking for horny geek love' to you?"

"I don't think I'm the right person to be asking," Derek teased, winking at her.

She threw her hands up in the air. "Save me from the males of the species," Penelope muttered. "I swear to god, all I wanted to do was upgrade my system. I didn't ask for him to look down my blouse or demand that I show him grace and favor and go out with him. And I sure as hell don't need to explain to him why I need 3TB of SDRAM."

"What's SDRAM?" Derek asked.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Don't worry your pretty head over it, handsome – it just makes computers go fast and process lots of things," she said condescendingly. "You should go do your paperwork before they call you out on a new case. Evil doesn't take time off."

"I hope there isn't a new case today," he said. "We have plans, remember?"

"I might have to cancel," she said, not looking at him as she brought her monitors back online. "Beta Team is being needy. I don't know how late I'm going to have to stay."

He raised an eyebrow. "Since when is the tech supposed to stay after hours?"

"I'm on call 24/7, Hot Stuff," Penelope said with a heavy sigh. "It's the burden of being the All-Knowing Goddess of Informational Support. Sorry."

"Lynch used to get the hell out of Dodge and turn off his phone at five."

"Well, if you hadn't already noticed, there's a reason Kevin Lynch no longer gets to lay claim to this office," she said, looking over her shoulder at him with a small smile on her lips. "And it's not because I just erased him from the FBI files, either."

"Did you?" Derek asked.

"No, but it would be a hell of a lot more fun than canvassing five hundred pages of bullshit in order to find the proverbial needle in a haystack," she said, pulling off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. "My head still hurts."

"I have ibuprofen –"

"No, don't worry about me," she instructed, putting her glasses back on and trying to smile convincingly at him. He came over and shook his head, adjusting her glasses, smiling a little. "Hey – personal space," she murmured. "Professional."

"I can think of a few unprofessional things we could do tonight," he invited on a whisper against the shell of her ear.

"Tease," she exhaled.

"You doing anything for lunch?"

"IRS searches," Penelope sighed.

"How about a sandwich instead?"

"Make it a salad and French onion soup and you've got a date," she replied.

"Sounds good."

He turned to go, then leaned back in and brushed a hint of a kiss against her temple. Then he was gone and she was left with a handful of SDRAM chips and a seething hatred of the Beta Team for probably ruining her night full of hot monkey sex with Derek Morgan.

* * *

><p>It was well past midnight when Penelope got home and kicked off her shoes. Not only had she not gotten out of the office anywhere near on time to make sure Emma got a proper dinner or to bed on time, Alpha Team got called out on a case in California. Her feet were killing her and all she wanted to do was collapse and not move for a year.<p>

But before she could fall into bed, she needed to clean up the mess from Hurricane Emma that littered the living room. Before she knew it, she was washing dishes, picking up scattered pieces of clothing, and then she decided to clean the bathroom while she was at it. By the time she changed into pajamas, it was four. She didn't exactly sleep, so much as toss and turn in bed till she couldn't stand it anymore.

She got one of her laptops and flipped it open, propping a spare pair of glasses on her nose. She, out of habit, opened her email program and typed a message to Emily. She knew that her friend would never receive it, but she needed to write it nonetheless.

_Sugar Tits,_

_I don't know if this is what life on the outside is supposed to be like, but it's crazy. Give me the prison any day. Work is insane and I'm exhausted. Got hit on by a crazy man today and I actually stood up and yelled at him. ME, can you believe it? Of course, it doesn't help that I have a… FWB kind of a thing going on. Maybe. If he's a friend. It's too new and confusing. I miss you. So does Emma._

_Baby Girl_

She hit send and the moment the note was off into cyberspace, she felt tired enough to sleep a little before the alarm went off.

* * *

><p>August 18, 2011<p>

She alternated between her smoothie and a giant mug of coffee. The mug had "STFU" printed on it and made Penelope feel better as she sipped the hot coffee. "So we're looking at an uncomfortably long list of sexual predators in the Glendale area," she said. "Do you have any parameters for me to narrow it down?"

"He's targeting adults," Morgan said. "Single, male and female – the offender is most likely bisexual."

"Sorry, Hot Stuff, but that's not going to help much," Penelope sighed. "It narrows the list down to 800 or so names, once we weed out the kiddie porn sickos." She cracked her knuckles. "And the MO doesn't ring any bells with priors, from what I'm seeing here. Any related cases probably wouldn't look significant if the unsub is switching teams, right?"

Morgan sighed. "Right. Thanks."

"Sorry about last night," Penelope said softly. "It would've been fun."

"Too many shoulda-woulda-couldas in my life, Baby Girl," he replied. "Did you get some sleep?"

She chuckled and took another sip of coffee. "That depends on your definition of 'some'."

"Any?"

"A couple of hours – I'm nursing a pot of coffee right now," she murmured. "What about you?"

"Same." His voice lowered. "It's hard to sleep when I'm busy thinking about how much fun I could be having in bed with a fabulously curvaceous computer goddess –"

"Agent Morgan, they tap these lines," Penelope teased, blushing a little.

"I don't care," he said. "You take care of yourself and Emma, Goddess."

"Mmm," she replied noncommittally, taking another drink of her coffee. "Call me any time, Derek. If you need something – or not."

"I always need something, Mama," he teased, voice rumbling in her ear, making her smile and blush more as she remembered his dirty little nothings whispered against her neck. Did the man know he could read the phonebook and she'd get wet? God, she hoped not.

"Let me work on this list and see if I can draw something out of it," Penelope murmured. "I can't make any guarantees."

"Call me if you get anything," Derek instructed.

"Oh, mon cher, you're number one on my speed dial," she promised with a chuckle.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Love you, silly girl."

"Oh, no, you don't love me," she laughed. "You love my ability to make you smile, and my shower. I'll call you when I have progress, Hot Stuff." She hung up the phone and fanned herself before she went back to work. That man didn't do much but get her hot and bothered – and act like a frakking hero.

* * *

><p>August 25, 2011<p>

Finally – finally – they'd caught the sick, dirty son of a bitch and were on their way home. He'd been good: too good. Penelope had gone home every night feeling more than slightly squicked out and as a result of the nightmares and her overactive imagination she'd been getting less than a stellar amount of sleep. She was over and done with sadists and sickos.

At least till the next case.

Fortunately, she'd already put her foot down and the upcoming weekend was hers. She and Emma had plans to go shopping and watch movies all weekend. It was the least she could do to make up for all the hours she'd put in at the office.

Of course, she'd also been left alone in the office to fend off Kevin Lynch's slightly skeevy self. There had been a lot of yelling, and a couple of times, she'd filed complaints with Strauss, but the man was like a virus and just would not go away – or roll over and DIE. He kept insisting that she go out with him and see Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Like she hadn't already memorized the movie when she was ten. Like she actually wanted to socialize with him.

His attention wasn't flattering.

On the contrary, Derek Morgan's attention was the epitome of sweetness. He knew when she was stuck in the office and overwhelmed, and got pizza delivered to Mrs. Walter's apartment next door for Emma. She'd almost cried when she found out: to be truthful, she'd never once thought that he'd be that kind of a guy. He was too fucking perfect.

Which is why she knew that it was all too good to be true. Once he got bored, he'd move on. But, for now, she'd take the kindness and run with it.

She was almost finished with her digital case files when she heard the team entering the bullpen from her office. There was something comforting in them making so much noise when they came home – like they knew it banished the bad energy and demons left in the room. It made her smile and Penelope was genuinely glad to have them back. Now, she'd have people to keep Strauss from looking over her shoulder and commenting negatively on her request to make the team digitally enabled by tablet as opposed to carrying around files all the time. It was just a suggestion, but one that might just work.

She stepped out of her office with a smile on her face and leaned over the railing to smile down at her co-workers. "Welcome home, my intrepid superheroes," Penelope called out.

"Glad to be back, Garcia," Rossi said with a wan smile.

"Hey, PG, I got you something in Cali," Derek replied with a grin.

"Oh, really? What?" Penelope questioned with barely restrained glee.

"Me!"

Her smile vanished, replaced with a teasing frown. "Well, did you keep that receipt? I think I want the newest version…"

JJ laughed and nudged Hotch. "And you were worried that she wouldn't fit in," she commented.

Derek's hand came up over his heart and he winked at Penelope, making her heart flutter. "You wound me, Goddess –"

"You'll get over it," Penelope replied cheerfully as she headed back into her office to wrap things up for the night. Beta Team was between cases, so she knew she could get away with cutting out as soon as she made sure Hotch had her files. She had plans with Emma to go raid Whole Foods and make macaroni and cheese to celebrate the end of the case and return of normalcy.

She grabbed her blazer, purse, and lunch kit, and turned to leave her office, walking straight into a solid wall of Derek Morgan. "Oh my god, don't do that!" she exclaimed, steadying herself against his chest. "You scared me to death!"

"You missed me: admit it," he said with a grin.

She tilted her head and thought about it. "I missed you scaring Kevin Lynch off," she replied. "He's… touched. Soon to be touched with a face-full of mace, if he doesn't watch himself. Or his hands."

Derek's eyes darkened with barely repressed anger. "Did he lay a hand on you?" he growled.

She patted his chest and smiled. "Oh, sugar, Mama can take care of herself, so don't worry your pretty head about me," she assured him. "I've put in several complaints with Erin Strauss and I'm pretty sure I could do some serious damage to him without hurting myself."

"Did he touch you?"

"Not the way you think – he just invaded my space and got creepy," she said with a sigh. "And kept pestering me to go out with him. I think if I told him 'sure, let me run it by my 9 year old daughter', he would probably crap his pants and run the other direction. Most men don't appreciate children who are old enough to talk back to their single parent's date for the evening."

"Are you busy tonight?" Derek asked.

She chuckled. "Yeah, Emma and I have plans."

He nodded and let go of her. "Maybe sometime, I could join in on your plans?"

"It's just grocery shopping and making dinner together," Penelope finally caved, not liking how disappointed he looked. "Nothing special; but you can come if you want."

"I'll have to go by my place first –"

She smiled. "Of course," she acknowledged. "Why don't you come over about seven? Dinner should be ready about then."

She loved the way he smiled, like she'd made his entire day with that proclamation. But that was silly – it was just macaroni and cheese, not dinner at the White House. It was cute, but entirely too much.

"Do I need to bring my go-bag?" he asked.

"Only if you plan on having clean underwear for work tomorrow," she replied, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. Oh, yeah, she'd been deprived of his presence for too damn long. She hoped the unsub from their case would rot in jail for keeping her gorgeous – whoa, wait, did she almost think of him as HER MAN? Definitely too fast, there. He was fun, they were explosive in bed together, he adored her daughter as much as she did – but he was not her man. Or her boyfriend. Or –

She shook her head and said, "So, I'll see you at seven."

"I'll be there. Should I bring anything?"

"Just the warranty for that hot self of yours that you got me in Cali," she teased. "I might break you."

That wasn't at all innocent – except on planet OMG.

She was seriously lousy at this game, wasn't she?

Well, shit. At least he knew well enough to know that she wasn't kidding about the breaking him part. She probably was going to show him a thing or two about playing rough by the end of the night.

Hopefully, he could handle it.


	7. Chapter 7

Not only do I not own anything, I also don't own a fabulous pair of shoes. I require fabulous, over the top shoes to go with the fabulous over the top nothing that I own!

* * *

><p>Part seven:<p>

* * *

><p>September 2, 2011<p>

Derek was already in the bullpen by the time Penelope got to work, and she paused long enough to say good morning before dashing up to her office. If Hotch caught her being late, it would be her head on an engraved silver platter. Even though traffic was not her fault.

She snatched a post-it note off her office door as she unlocked it and breezed into her office. What did HR want now? It wasn't as though she hadn't jumped through all of their hoops already. She sat down and put her lunch away in her mini-fridge and set up her drinks for the morning.

Only then did she make the call. "Hi, this is Penelope Garcia at the BAU – someone left me a note," she said.

"That would be me – Gwen Pepperdine, Director of Human Relations," the cheerful woman on the other end of the line said. "Miss Garcia, I realize you've been working here for almost a month – and your training before that. However, it's come to my attention that your birth certificate has been altered. We need a copy of the original, un-amended certificate. You can contact the state of California to receive that information."

Penelope blinked. "Uhm… this is the only birth certificate I've ever had, ma'am," she said. "I don't know anything about amendments or – is that even legal? Can you amend a birth certificate?"

"Usually only to correct spelling errors."

"Right," she sighed. "Okay, well, I'll acquire that for you by the end of day today. Thank you for letting me know about the issue. Here's hoping I still have a name at the end of the day, right?"

She hung up and turned to the computer, cracking her knuckles. "Well, shit," Penelope muttered. "What's going to be faster? Requesting it from a live human being, or hacking into the database? Database."

"Are you talking to yourself?" Reid asked from the doorway.

"Yeah, there's a problem with my – y'know, nevermind," she said with a smile, turning in her chair to look him over. "What can I help you with, Dr. Reid?"

"I wanted to apologize."

"For what, kid?" she asked with an amused smile. Might as well make him squirm.

"For treating you the way I have since your arrival," Reid said awkwardly. "I've come to realize what an invaluable asset you are to this team, and I apologize for treating you poorly."

"Aww, I love you, too," Penelope cooed, smirking when he blushed. "Emma and I are going to the National Zoo tomorrow – would you like to come with?"

"Uh –"

"Seriously. You look like you could use some fun, and what's more fun than a trip to the Zoo?"

"A root canal?"

"Dr. Reid, you just made a funny!" Penelope laughed.

"I was actually being serious."

Her face fell. "Oh."

"Should I just meet you guys at the Zoo, then, or are we going to rideshare?"

Her smile returned and she clapped, rubbing her hands together with some glee. "I think we should meet at the front gate at ten tomorrow," she said. "Emma wants to pick your brain, by the way – I told her that you're a bonafide genius and she got excited because you know so much."

"I'm not really good with kids," Reid said.

"But you're Henry's godfather –"

"That's different. I can mold his brain."

"You can guide Emma's brain, then," Penelope said, waving a hand. "I give you permission to challenge her as much as you need to. She's smarter than I am – I just don't stimulate her enough, apparently."

"What grade is she in?" Reid inquired.

She hesitated. "Eighth."

"And she's nine?"

Penelope nodded. "Yeah, she's ahead of the curve," she admitted with a sigh. "Next year, my baby's going to be a frosh."

"High school can be very difficult for geeks," Reid said carefully.

"You don't have to tell me," Penelope snorted. "I have my fair share of horror stories from high school, Boy Wonder."

"She'll need a lot of support," Reid hedged. "Maybe I can mentor her?"

Garcia's smile returned full-force. "I'd like that, and I think she will, too. Now, you've wasted enough time with me – I've got to take care of a couple of things, and I'm sure you have brilliant things to be working on, so I'll see you in the morning," she said, effectively dismissing him from further embarrassment. He was kind of cute when he was busy being socially inept.

She turned her attention back to the computer and hacked into the state of California's databases. It took a while, but she finally located 'Penelope Anne Rose' in the system, but it was the same birth certificate she already had. She traced the certificate number back to the original, and her hand flew to her mouth in a brief moment of utter shock.

She printed the certificate in triplicate and numbly faxed one copy to HR. She tucked a second copy into her wallet, and she pretty much just stared at the other one like it was the proverbial snake in the garden of Eden.

There were two options: she could leave well enough alone and pretend that she hadn't seen what was staring her in the face, or she could dig up a whole hot mess of trouble for herself.

Was there really any doubt which option she'd choose?

She tapped her lips with the butt of one of her sparkly, fluffy pens, then focused. Surely there couldn't be that many men in the country with that name? She tapped a general search parameter into the system, feeling vindicated when only 50 or so names popped up in response. She refined the search based on what little her mother had told her about her biological father.

After all of that, only one name remained.

* * *

><p>She was nervous, distracted, waiting for everyone else to leave so she could get up enough courage to set up an ambush. Derek had long since gone, citing a need to get out and get his 'groove thang on'. The less Penelope knew about that, the better. She'd heard tell of that and long nights at the club. She knew she should feel insulted that he'd already thrown her over for the bitches at the bar, but she really didn't give a shit.<p>

There were bigger issues in her life at the moment.

A few things in her FBI file were true: some were fallacy or overly embroidered truths. Her family history was heartbreakingly true. She was born on February 15, 1980, in Berkeley, California, the daughter of Cassandra Bayliss Rose. She was adopted by Sam Garcia in October of 1980 and grew up with four older step-brothers from his first marriage. Her mother and step-father were killed in a car accident on the I-5 in 1998. She went off the grid in June of 1998 and got arrested in September of 1998 and thrown into the CIA.

But there were gaping holes in the story – like how her mother had amended her birth certificate in an attempt to keep her from discovering her biological father's identity. Among other things.

She looked out over the bullpen and saw that only Reid remained at his desk. Perfect. Now, if only she could get up the courage to do what she had already decided she must.

Penelope Anne Garcia took a deep breath and clutched the photograph and her birth certificate – the original - in her hand ever so much tighter. She had to do this. Without realizing it, she'd walked the distance to David Rossi's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Her heart was drumming in her ears as she pushed the door open. "Can I talk to you?" she asked.

"Sure – I'm just finishing up for the night," Rossi replied, setting aside a paper file. "What's up, Kitten? Enjoying the job?"

"Probably more than I should," she said, sitting down on one of his guest chairs, trying not to fidget. "Dave…" She set the photograph on his desk and pushed it across to him. "Is that you?" All of her internal monologue and practicing a more subtle approach were gone in a flash.

He picked it up and looked at the old piece of photo booth film. "Where did you get this?" Rossi demanded, his voice rough but unyielding.

"That's the only picture my mother had of my father," Penelope said.

"It's me," he said in a dull tone.

She took another very deep breath and handed over the birth certificate with shaking hands. "I got a call from HR this morning because they needed my original birth certificate. I never knew I had an amended copy till today. Mom took you off as my father and renamed me. I didn't know that I was born Penelope Anne Rose Rossi."

"A name on a birth certificate doesn't mean anything," Rossi said, his tone measured and even. "Your mother was –"

"She loved you and didn't want to hurt you by breaking up your marriage," Penelope interjected forcefully. "She told me that when I was… old enough to understand. She didn't say much more than that, though. And she never talked about you by name. She was protecting you till the day she died."

"She was protecting YOU," Rossi said. "If I'd've known she had a kid, I probably would have filed for custody. Your mother wasn't exactly –" He stopped abruptly, then frowned. "I want a DNA test."

Penelope nodded stiffly. "I figured."

"Can you blame me?" he asked in a gruff tone.

She shook her head.

"Some girl comes in here and just says she's my kid – hell yes, I'm going to ask for a paternity test," Rossi muttered. He looked down at the photograph and back up at her.

Penelope knew that her hurt had to be broadcast all over her face: she wasn't very good at hiding things anymore. Once upon a time, yes – now… no. But she couldn't fault him or blame him. It was a lot to take in and his sudden coldness was just because it was fresh.

She didn't know if she was hoping for the best in this situation or not.

And she was done being brave. She got to her feet and all but ran out the door.

* * *

><p>She sent an email to Emily's dead-end address and reached for her phone. She didn't want to be needy, but she didn't want to be alone, either. Rejection in any of its forms cut Penelope to the very soul: death, denial, or straight up "it's not you, it's me". Rossi's almost casual dismissal had her tied up in knots. Emma was staying the night with one of her new friends, and Penelope just did not want to be alone. Alone was where she couldn't cope.<p>

_HOT STUFF_, she texted, then waited.

It took about five minutes and half a glass of wine.

_BG? OUT CLUBBIN_.

_I KNOW. MAMA HAD A BAD DAY. COULD USE TLC_.

She finished the open bottle of wine and got up to get another. Her stomach was tied up in knots and her takeout Chinese wasn't helping much. She'd already cried too much about the stupid DNA test and Rossi's insistence that she was mistaken. She played tough chick, but the truth was that she was a terrible softie – who would just as soon shoot you with a bubblecannon as an actual gun.

_U WANT ME OVER?_

She wanted him to come of his own volition, not because she asked him to. She wanted him to want to want her, not to –

_I'LL START W/O YOU._

She tossed back the wine she'd poured, then put the bottle away. If she'd just played her cards right, he'd be over in a few minutes and –

She wasn't expecting the knock at her door so soon. She opened the door and smiled wearily. "That was fast."

"I was already on my way over."

"Texting and driving?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't lecture me, Baby Girl," Derek said with a smile. "Wanna tell me about your bad day?"

"Wanna tell me about the club?" she countered, gesturing for him to come in.

He stepped into the apartment and closed and locked the door behind him. "They were cute, precious, ass-shaking hussies… and they weren't you." She couldn't read his tone, but the truth in his words struck through Rossi's rejection like a honed cleaver.

"I… had to reprogram two crucial pieces of software because of code loopholes," she said, the words robotic. She couldn't tell him about her private hell. One thing the CIA had taught her well: your secrets made you who you were and how you react to them determines how successful your mission will be.

At this point, her mission was to survive the night. If she could do that, she could do anything.

"Sorry," he said softly. "Got any beer?"

"Just wine and tequila," Penelope said. "Sorry. I'm not big on beer." She wandered into the living room, letting him make himself at home. He already knew where everything was. Especially the bed.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked as he came into the room behind her.

"No," she admitted. "I'm not okay at all." It was as close to trusting him with her secrets as she could stomach. "I was hoping you could help with that."

Friends with benefits – but they weren't really friends yet. They were co-workers who had chemistry. Maybe friendship would come later? But at least the sex was good.

"I miss her, too," Derek said.

Well, at least he was smart enough to get that much, Penelope thought wryly. That was the bubble-up of emotion below the surface of her life: Emily Prentiss was still dead. No zombie apocalypse, no wrong diagnosis by a soon-to-be-beaten-to-a-pulp doctor, no Emily. Everything else was just piled up on top of that fragile soufflé of wrongness.

"Is Emma here?"

She shook her head. "She's at a sleepover, and tomorrow, we're going to the Zoo."

"Sounds like fun."

She shrugged, looking out the window into the night. He came up behind her and invaded her space bubble, snaking his arms around her waist and pulling her against his hard chest. His breath was hot on her neck, making tingles burst across her skin yet again. "Derek, I want to tell you something," she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"I like you a lot, but if you try that backdoor shit one more time, I will dump you off the bed so fast both your heads will spin," she said in a sweet tone.

He laughed. "Oh, is that how it is, then?"

"That's very much how it is, Hot Stuff," Penelope said, turning in his arms and smirking up at him. "You smell damn good. And look even better."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he growled, kissing her and nibbling on her lower lip. Nibbling was such a delicate word for an intensely manly man, but that was exactly what he was doing – nibbling like a bunny with a carrot. Her breath came hard and fast, tiny, shallow pants between kisses and moans. She loved kissing him. He was her favorite vice: and he didn't come with a calorie count.

A tiny little voice in the back of her head cheered her on. She was finally out in the real world and getting some! And from a stone-cold fox of a man, to boot. Not bad for the geek girl. Not bad at all. She squeaked when he grabbed her ass. What the hell was the fascination Derek Morgan had with her butt anyway? She scratched at his back through his well-worn leather jacket, making a noise that sounded halfway between a purr and a growl. "Don't play me, Derek Morgan," she whispered. "You know you're hot as hell and you work hard at it."

He chuckled. "Baby Girl, there's only one hot one in this room – and that's you, Mama."

"Shameless flattery will get you anywhere - including my panties," she replied with a grin.

"Oh, good – I thought I was going to get frozen out tonight," he teased.

"Oh, no, believe me, there's nothing cold down there," she giggled with a coy smirk as she stepped out of his arms and headed toward the bedroom. "Give me five minutes and I'll show you what you almost missed out on tonight," she promised.

"Fuck the five minutes," he growled, stomping after her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "I don't give a shit what flimsy piece of whatever you were going to put on – I'd just rip it off and fuck you till you scream, Hot Mama."

She laughed and rushed to the far side of the bed, at least attempting to evade her pursuer. He followed her with purpose in his stride, then she jumped onto the bed and attempted to run across it, but he grabbed her ankle and dragged her down onto the nest of pillows and her well-loved purple comforter. "Derek!" she squealed, laughing as he tickled her sides. "You don't play fair!"

"All's fair in foreplay and fucking," he growled, leaning in to nuzzle her collarbone, inhaling deeply. "When we're on the road, I miss you. I miss being able to do this and laugh with you and make you get hot and bothered and I miss the noises you make when you're just about to cum for me."

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," she laughed, guiding his hand under her t-shirt. "But enough talking – I'd much rather have you inside me about now."

"Behave," he grumbled, caressing her breast, letting his fingertips glide over her nipple fleetingly.

"What's the fun in being good when you can be really, really naughty and get a spanking?" she shot back from the hip. Her words hit him and he tweaked her nipple, sending a surge of intense sparks up and down her spine, settling down to a pool of warmth between her thighs. Speaking of surges, she was pretty much as wet as a porn star and he hadn't even really done anything. Silly boy, wanting to talk! If she was going to get busy and forget her day, she was certainly not going to be inviting a vibrator to the party. No way. Her XXX-rated fantasies involved him now. Derek Morgan and every depraved, dirty, goddamn sexy thing he could do to her…

Yeah, she was pathetic, but in her defense? The man was walking sex. What woman in her right mind wouldn't want to jump his bones and rock his world?

She could find herself committed to a life of debauched excess if he was the one doing the debauching. Oh, yeah, that would be 100% okay with her.

Especially if he walked around naked.

Dear god, just knowing what he was packing under those tight jeans was enough to send her already lust-addled brain into the stratosphere.

He did his best to keep her flying high – his lips and hands were everywhere, demanding her full attention. She'd never really been a sexual carnivore until he opened her eyes to how she should be treated in bed. Now, she was ravenous, craving his tightly-muscled body against hers. It was a fever she couldn't break, an itch that she needed to scratch, but came back again and again till she wondered just what he was doing to her. Was he trying to undermine her independence and make her his sex slave? Because, well, shit – that was just fucking peachy with her!

She slapped at his hands and made him stop touching her long enough that they could undress each other. She still felt self-conscious when she spied his very muscled visage, whereby she was all soft and rounded and couldn't tone up if she tried. What did he see in her? A comfortable pillow?

He tugged her yoga pants off and worked his way up her leg, laving her flesh with searing hot kisses. "Are you trying to hide from me again, Goddess?" Derek growled, nipping at her hip. "When are you gonna get that I think you're gorgeous?"

"About the time I get over the fact that the fat girl doesn't get the hot guys," she replied. He bit down on her panties and tugged. She lifted her hips and moaned at the sight of him dragging the lace boyshorts down her thighs with only his teeth. It shouldn't have been as goddamn sexy as it was, but her face was already flushed from his attentions. Alabaster skin had its faults. Like not being able to hide any kind of arousal or embarrassment. Or both at once.

"You're not fat."

"Don't lie to me, Hot Stuff – I know my physical flaws," Penelope murmured. "I'm not exactly a size six anywhere but in my head."

"Did I ever say I wouldn't love on you because you aren't a size six?" he countered, crawling back up the bed to kiss her belly. "Your curves are incredible, Penelope Garcia, and if you change them, I'm going to be a very disappointed man." He smiled up at her. "I love this roll of skin right here, and your breasts, and your hips and –"

"Stop," she begged, chuckling. "You sound ridiculous."

"So do you."

"Derek, I have no illusions left," she murmured. "I'm thirty-one years old with a daughter whose father was a crime lord and quite possibly a serial killer. I'm chubby and half-Norwegian, half-Italian, if my mother and my birth certificate are to be believed, and in a couple of years, I'm going to start getting grey hairs and my boobs are going to sag like balloons filled with pudding. And you're just going to get that much hotter with age. Men always do. And one day, you're not going to want me anymore and it's going to feel like a kick in my vagina – and whatever. I have no illusions left to hold onto."

"Stop running your damn mouth, woman," Derek growled, tickling her breast with his fingertips. "I'm supposed to be able to distract you from thinking shit like that – clearly, I'm failing in my job here."

She exhaled shakily. "I can multitask," she protested.

"Did I not just tell you to shut up?" he muttered.

"Yes, but –"

"One more word and you get punished."

"But –"

She yelped when his fingers plunged into her with no preamble. Holy hell, that was rough and hot and – she bucked and choked out a wordless cry when he curled his fingers inside her and brushed her g-spot. She abandoned all kinds of conscious thought and just went with it – she ground against his hand, whimpering and moaning when his thumb flicked across her clit. "Fuck, yes – yes – no, keep going – Derek – yes… OH!"

Her doubts came flooding back when he brought her to the very brink, then withdrew. "Derek?" He grunted and gestured for her to lift her hips. She complied and he pulled her legs over his shoulders, leaning in and going down on her in a full on attack of voracious tongue and hunger. She writhed and cried out a litany of dirty, dirty words, pleading for him to never stop. He'd found every spot that turned her on and then some – and he was exploiting them in ways she hadn't wanted to imagine. He kneaded her ass with those nimble fingers and nipped at her clit with his teeth, barely grazing her flesh, but it was enough to make her scream. Her body clenched so hard she stopped breathing and all she saw was stars.

"Hey, baby, breathe," Derek insisted. "C'mon –"

Her lungs shuddered back into action and she fell back to the bed, panting for air. "Oh my fucking god," she choked out, reaching for him. "Get up here," she growled. "And stop fucking around."

He chuckled and kissed his way up her body, eliciting more moans and breathless gasps from her, till he was on the level with her lips, covering her with his lean body. He smiled down at her with a crafty little smirk that made her insides clench again, rendering her speechless in the full on aftermath of a devastating kiss – and a rippling orgasm that wound her up even more. He was bound and determined to make her spontaneously combust. And he was doing a pretty damn good job of it.

"No you don't," she growled when he pulled her legs up around his hips. She wrestled with him until he yielded, flat on his back. "My turn, Hot Stuff. You just enjoy the ride this time."

"Baby Girl –"

She kissed his protest away. "I want to," Penelope murmured against his lips with a smile. "God, you're amazingly sexy," she breathed. "And you're all mine right now."

"Oh really, now," he chuckled. "I was going to say you were all mine right now –"

"Possession is 9/10 of the law," she growled, straddling his hips and leaning to the bedside table to grab a condom. "And since we're in my apartment, I lay claim to you, Hot Stuff." She tore open the foil packet and adjusted her position so she could roll the condom down over his erection. "Mine," she said very firmly, her eyes glittering with suppressed mirth and a hell of a lot of eagerness. "MINE," she repeated.

He chuckled again, but it died in his throat when she slid onto him, taking him in one long stroke, moaning loudly as she settled against his hips. "Damn, girl –" he exhaled, reaching for her, but she slapped his hands away. "Mama, no fair."

"Oh hush," she insisted, wiggling around a little bit, chuckling deeply when he closed his eyes and visibly fought the urge to grab her. She began to move, rising just a bit before she slammed down again. She rotated and gyrated, rising and falling, taking him deep and hard. It felt so damn good, she didn't want to stop. He finally lost the battle and grabbed her hips, guiding her into a faster rhythm. She leaned down to kiss him, hungrily, open-mouthed, deeply, a poor mimic of the intensely intimate joining of their bodies.

She shifted her weight ever so slightly and he thrust into her in such a way that he hit just the right spot. Penelope squeaked into his mouth and did her damnedest to repeat that motion. Dear god, that was fantastic – it sent a spike of intense pleasure rocketing up her spine, straight to her brain. One more stroke like that, and she came undone, dragging him down into depravity with her. It was so intense, so full of bliss, that she couldn't hold back the full-bodied cry that burst forth.

They were sweaty, flushed, and absolutely thrilled to the very core.

And that was brilliant. They cuddled and he nuzzled her neck. "You gonna tell me what really happened?" he asked very softly. "Why was your day was so bad?"

"No," she murmured. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's over and done." She kissed him gently on the cheek and whispered, "Thank you for making it better."

"I didn't do anything."

"You did." She'd never tell him how much he'd done to lift her mood, because she was terrified it would make her seem clingy, needy, and entirely too emotionally-invested in their FWB relationship. She knew he wasn't ready to take a step, and neither was she – they were just playing around, biding time to heal their wounds. "Do you want to come to the Zoo with us?"

He pulled the comforter up over them. "Sure," Derek said with a small smile. "And then we'll come back and spend all night making sweet, sweet love –"

She laughed. "Don't make it sound so romantic. When we get back tomorrow, we can break the bed. Or the shower. Or whatever you want." She kissed him again, enjoying the comforting scent of him, the delightful warmth of his embrace.

Derek Morgan almost made up for the rest of her day.


	8. Chapter 8

Yeah, I still don't own shit. Reaffirmation is a good thing, until it isn't, and then it's just pessimism. COME AT ME, BRO.

* * *

><p>Part eight:<p>

* * *

><p>September 16, 2011<p>

"You wanted to see me?" Penelope said.

"Yeah," Rossi muttered. "Close the door and lock it, will you?"

She complied, then turned to look at him. "I assume this is about the paternity test?"

"You assume correctly, Kitten," he said, gesturing for her to sit down. When she didn't, he sighed and waved an envelope in the air. "It came while we were on the last case. I haven't opened it. I thought you'd want to be the first to know the results."

She nodded stiffly. "Yeah, I guess. Not that it matters, because you all but shut me out." She couldn't keep the hurt out of her tone. "I thought we were friends, Dave."

He raised an eyebrow and opened the envelope. He skimmed the words and exhaled. "I'm so sorry, Kitten," Rossi said, handing the papers over to her.

She swallowed hard and started to read. Her hands were trembling as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I –"

"I'm sorry I wasn't in your life," Rossi said. "And I'm so sorry I held you at arm's length, Kitten. Can you forgive me and give me a chance to redeem myself as a father? I've been a pretty lousy one so far. Your Mom wasn't the best mother, I know. And I don't know anything about your step-father – "

"You can't make up for the past," Penelope said very quietly. "Emma needs a grandfather, and I don't know if I need a Dad or not. I don't know anything right now. Except that I'm going to change my emergency contact information as soon as I leave this office."

"Penelope…"

"Can we not tell people for a while?" she asked. "I need to get used to knowing that my father is right here."

"I understand," Rossi said quietly. "And I agree. Are you going to tell Emma?"

"Not yet. But I want you in her life," Penelope said. "Because I don't want to have to go it alone anymore."

"You don't have to be alone anymore," he said, crossing the small room and drawing her into his arms. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, holding her close. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

She hesitated for a moment, then hugged him back. "Will you tell me how you met Mom?" she whispered.

"Not today, but soon," he promised. "Would you and Emma like to come over for dinner?"

"Not today – but soon," she echoed with a tiny smile. "She's got a test on Monday and needs to study this weekend. And I have plans to go out with JJ tomorrow."

"Okay," Rossi said. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Always," she said very quietly. "I'm a survivor… or so people tell me."

"Penelope," he said, getting her to look up at him, "I want you to know that, no matter what else happens, I am proud of you and I'm proud to say that you're my daughter. And I'm proud to say Emma is my grandchild, no matter who her father was. She's so much like you, and I'm glad of it."

She hesitated. "Do I call you Dave? Or… Dad?" she asked.

"You can call me whatever you want, Kitten," he assured her. "I won't push you."

She leaned into his shoulder and hugged him tighter. "I'm glad that we found each other, even though it's been a lifetime."

"Me, too." He released her and smiled. "Now, we probably ought to do some work before people start complaining that we're unproductive."

She laughed and nodded. "Indeed," she agreed. "My office is always open… Dad."

"Same, kiddo," he said fondly.

She smiled at him, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the moment. But before she could start rambling or do anything to make it awkward, she headed back to her office.

"Special Agent Penelope Garcia?"

She stared at the men in her office. "Yes –"

"You're under arrest for technological crimes against the United States."

"WHAT?" Penelope exploded, struggling against the man that was handcuffing her. "WHAT THE HELL?"

Once she was restrained, she was bodily hauled out of her office and through the bullpen. She hung her head, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. She couldn't look at them: it would make this nightmare real. Her elation of a few minutes before had all but exploded into a shattered mess.

She knew better than to put up a fight. She ignored the protests of her co-workers and even Strauss, racking her mind for anything she might have done to warrant this treatment. Nothing came to mind. She knew how to cover her tracks. There were only two people in the world more proficient in her line of work: who ratted her out and on what?

She was put in the back of an SUV and blindfolded. She tried to memorize the route and the sounds associated with it, but her concentration failed her. She felt sick, worried, knew that if she said anything that they deemed to be wrong, she'd be right back in Cuba, this time as a real prisoner, detained without cause.

When the SUV stopped, she was led out, still blindfolded. Penelope was led through a building, on several elevators, and lost track of where she was. She felt herself shoved into a chair, and the blindfold was removed.

She was in an interrogation room.

Go figure.

The man took her handcuffs off. "Agent Garcia," he said. "You've sent several emails in the last three weeks to e(dot)prentiss(at)gmail(dot)com. Correct?" When she said nothing, he said, "Did you knowingly endanger Emily Prentiss's mission?"

"Emily Prentiss is dead," Penelope said robotically. It was reflex now. Lauren Reynolds is dead. Emily Prentiss is dead. My parents are dead. Ian Doyle is dead.

The door to the interrogation room opened and a woman stepped inside. Penelope could hear her heels on the tile floor. Just someone else to try to break her.

"Baby Girl."

Penelope inhaled sharply. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no –"

"Give us the room." The man left and the door closed behind him, but the woman still had yet to come into Penelope's line of sight. "I know you didn't mean to put me in danger, Baby Girl," Emily Prentiss said as she rounded the table and sat down across from Penelope. Her face was gaunt, her body nearly skin and bones in her tight jeans and loose button-down top. Her hair was blonde and she had colored contacts, but it was definitely Emily Prentiss. Or a mirage.

Penelope just stared at her, her mouth wide in shock.

"Baby Girl, I'm –"

"Dead," Penelope croaked, feeling dizzy. "We buried you – I – I spoke at the funeral – Ian Doyle tried to kill me –" It sank in abruptly, and she flew to her feet, lashing out violently across the table, scratching Emily's face with her neon pink nails and yanking her hair in rage, pulling Emily close to her. "HOW COULD YOU? HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, EMILY PRENTISS?"

"I had nothing to do with it!" Emily cried, pinching Penelope's wrist until she let go. "I swear to god, Pen, they removed me from the hospital under cover and as soon as I was well enough, they gave me a new identity and sent me on a mission to take out Chloe Donaghy."

Penelope blinked. "Chloe Donaghy? What does she have to –"

"Ian Doyle had a son with her. She's determined to get Declan now that Doyle is dead."

"You're –"

"I'm closing in," Emily said. "Baby Girl, I – I'm almost there, and you emailed me and could have blown the entire operation. They needed to know if you knew. I told them no, but –"

Penelope shook her head and closed her eyes. "I didn't know."

"But now you do," Emily said very quietly. "They want to lock you up till the op is over, but I won't let them do that to you. I need you to swear that you won't send anymore emails and you won't tell anyone I'm alive."

Penelope swallowed hard. "Emily, how can I just…"

"Penelope, it's a state secret. If you don't take the oath, you will be a traitor. So just swear it."

She calmed her breathing, then nodded. "I swear it," Penelope exhaled weakly. "I know nothing."

Emily hesitated. "How is everyone?"

Penelope frowned. "They're broken, Emily. How the hell do you think they are?"

"Derek?" Emily whispered. "How is –"

Penelope felt a sudden pang of overwhelming guilt twisting in her gut. "He's… Derek. You can't read him easily."

"Isn't that the truth?" Emily laughed softly. "I miss all of them – I keep thinking if I make it back in one piece, I'll try harder to make it work with Derek."

Penelope's heart plummeted. She was the other woman, the homewrecker. She knew Emily would be back in his arms as soon as he forgave her for her lie. Where would that leave her? Alone and fighting like hell to let Emily have her bit of happiness.

She could do it. She was strong enough to survive this, too.

"Just come back to us in one piece," Penelope said softly. "I won't blow your cover. I will keep your secrets. Just, please… come back safely."

"I will," Emily murmured, pulling Penelope into a tight embrace. "Baby Girl, take care of yourself."

Penelope returned the hug, refusing to give in to anything she was feeling. She just had to put on the old mask; the one that said she was okay. It was the only thing keeping her afloat now.

"We both have to go," Emily said. "Tell them that you closed the software loophole that created the exploitation. Or… something. You'll think of something, Baby Girl."

"I… Emily, I love you. Please stay safe." She wanted to break down and confess her mindless, hopeless attraction to Derek. She wanted to tell Emily all about her father. She wanted to be honest, truthful, upfront – and she couldn't be. She would keep Emily's secrets in addition to her own.

There didn't seem to be any other way.

* * *

><p>Hours later, she'd explained herself out of a corner and assured Strauss that nothing else untoward would be happening. She was on probation, thanking her lucky stars that Emily's shenanigans hadn't earned her a suspension or outright firing.<p>

She hid the events of the day from Emma, focusing on having a normal dinner for once. Spinach and mushroom omelets and wheat toast. It was blissfully normal. Too normal.

Emma went to bed with her computer, watching one of her DVDs with her headphones on. Penelope took that chance to call Derek. "Hey, Hot Stuff," she murmured.

"Hey, Goddess –"

"Can I take a raincheck on hot sex tonight?" she asked. "Today was hell and I just want to go to bed."

"You sure? I could give you a hell of a massage."

"You're sweet, but a happy ending wouldn't even make today better," she said with a heavy sigh. "Tomorrow, though –"

"I thought you were going out with JJ."

"She cancelled."

"Oh."

"Emma wants to go do chemistry experiments with Reid, so I'll be free for a few hours," she said in a voice that was cautiously seductive. It was ridiculous that she felt like she had to do battle with her day planner to pencil in sex –

Her heart clenched when she remembered with striking clarity that she was going to be cast off like a ragdoll as soon as Emily came home. He would take her back and it would be a happily ever after for them, and she'd be alone again.

"You know," Penelope said, "why don't you come over now? I don't want you to feel neglected."

"Baby Girl, if you're tired –"

"Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to make me forget that I had such a shitty day," she murmured.

He was silent for a minute, then said, "Challenge accepted. Give me twenty minutes to get over there."

"One of these days, I'll come to you," she murmured. "And you won't know what hit you."

"Promises, promises," he teased with a low chuckle. "I already don't know what hit me. Maybe it was a gorgeous blonde."

Her heart clenched again, and she burst into a sudden cold sweat. Oh, god, she couldn't lie to him. He would know. Every omission, he'd be able to read. She hated profilers. But she loved him and she didn't want to give him up. A spiteful, jealous part of her wished Emily harm so she could keep Derek to herself. But she brushed it away. "I'll see you in a few minutes," she murmured, hanging up on him.

Time to compose herself and pretend that – pretend what, exactly? That she was okay and everything was the same as it was before? Too many things had fallen onto her shoulders in one day. She couldn't take any more.

Derek arrived with popcorn and a DVD – _North by Northwest_. They cuddled up on the sofa and watched the movie, holding tightly to each other like a lifeline, neither wanting to let go.


	9. Chapter 9

I don't own anything, but that's okay, because if I did, I'd have to be a meaner person. Like my ex, who just bought a fucking Porche to replace his Mini while I'm still driving a 1998 Mercury Tracer, and don't break up with people via text message like a prick.

* * *

><p>Part nine:<p>

* * *

><p>October 14, 2011<p>

Yet another set of grotesque pictures flooded Penelope's monitors as she was talking to Derek. They were on a case involving someone who took particular pleasure in mutilating his victims beyond recognition. Her stomach roiled as she stared in horror at the body parts that stared back at her. "Oh my god," she choked out, flailing blindly for her wastebasket. She closed her eyes, waiting for the nausea to pass, but it didn't happen. She barely had time to yank her headset off and throw it out of harm's way before she was emptying the contents of her stomach into the trashcan.

Two months at the BAU still hadn't hardened her to the disgusting depravity that criminals resorted to in the name of self-gratification. Just when she thought she was done throwing up, the urge kicked in again and she really knew she was in for it now – Derek was going to go postal when she got back on the line. She knew he could hear everything that was going on, and that emphatically DID NOT make her feel better.

Between heaves, she cut off the monitors. The photos were mocking her inability to cope with their heinous disgustingness.

She took great shuddering gasps of air, finally willing her heart to stop pounding in her ears, finally getting past the overwhelming urge to keep throwing up, finally putting the wastebasket down. And finally, finally, she put her earpiece back in. "You still there?" she asked weakly.

"ARE YOU OKAY?" Derek practically screamed in her ear.

"Just… just a little squicked out by the pictures," she said sheepishly. "I'll be fine."

"You were throwing up for five minutes straight – I had to take you off speaker. Are you okay?" Derek demanded gruffly.

"When I get an email from you, I expect naughty pictures of you, not pictures of bloody stumps that used to be people," she said with a heavy sigh. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"Rossi just about launched out of the chair when you started barfing," Derek said. "He's outside pacing."

"I guess he's a sympathetic puker," Penelope said, finally cutting her monitors back on. "Okay, one disgusting catalogue of body parts, coming right up. And next time, warn a girl before you send over gore instead of porn, will ya?"

"Mama, are you sure you're up for this?" Derek asked, his voice lowering with worry.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Don't you worry about your Hot Mama – she's got everything under control now, including her stomach reflexes."

"You take care of yourself," he scolded, still sounding worried. That he would allow himself to be anything but business on the case was new and frightening for her. "If you need to stop and get another tech in to handle it, please don't hesitate, Baby Girl. I know this kind of thing bugs you."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "You go off and catch this sick freak. Let me take care of business."

She cut the phone before Derek could say anything else. She was already humiliated by her lack of control; she didn't need him being sweet and placating her. She also didn't need to be looking at photographs of blood, guts and gore, but it was her job and she wasn't going to shirk it.

She flipped through the photos, feeling the nausea creeping back up into her throat. "Okay, yeah, I can't do this," Penelope said, dialing the tech pool. "This is Penelope Garcia: please send TA Lynch to my office immediately." If she couldn't do it, she might as well torture him.

She cut the monitors off again and grabbed the trashcan. "C'mon, Penelope, think about happy things – unicorns, rainbows, kittens, cupcakes…"

The thought of food made her reflexively start puking again.

Great.

She should just give up at this point: she wasn't going to stop throwing up any time soon.

Lynch knocked once, then came into her office and saw her hunched over the wastebasket, tossing her cookies like no tomorrow. "Uh – wow – uh – this is kind of like walking in on the Exorcist," he joked.

"SHUT UP," she gasped. "It's NOT funny." Penelope took a deep, shuddering breath and steadied her nerves. "I'm going to turn my back and you're going to catalogue the photos that Alpha Team sent a few minutes ago. I can't do it. I'm – I just can't do it."

Lynch rolled his eyes. "I warned you that their cases are some seriously nasty shit, but you didn't listen to me," he muttered.

"Just shut up and do it!" Penelope ordered, getting out of her swivel chair and retreating toward the door. She needed a trip to the ladies' room ASAP, if only to get away and get the taste of her breakfast out of her mouth.

Lynch looked at the pictures, then laughed. "Seriously? This is what breaks the great Penelope Garcia? Just wait till they get to the arson victims."

She couldn't stop herself from turning around and glaring at the back of his head. Unfortunately, she also caught an eyeful of the gruesome pictures, which made the heaving start again. She raced to the ladies', just barely making it into a stall before she was gagging and praying for it to be over. Her face was hot, not with shame, but because she was heaving hard enough to break the capillaries in her face. Every dry heave made her feel like she was about to pass out from the headache that was starting to form behind her eyes. Dear god, make it stop – all she wanted was for her stomach to stop trying to escape her body.

Go figure: the only time she got a flu shot, she actually got sick. Epic fail was epic.

She was starting to feel shaky and dizzy, but that was probably from the fact that she couldn't stop heaving her guts up. Enough was enough. As soon as she got her stomach under control, she went to Strauss's office, miserable and looking for all the world like she'd just been head-first in the toilet. A feeble explanation got her out of work for the rest of the day, and a phone call to the doctor's office got her an emergency squeeze-in appointment.

Three hours later, she was sitting at home with a mug of vegetable broth and a box of crackers. But every time she thought about work, she began gagging again. It was a vicious cycle.

She had a touch of the flu, likely contracted from the immunization or the petrie dish she worked in. But that wasn't enough to trigger the sickening nausea that she'd been fighting for the better part of a week.

A touch of pregnancy hormones, however…

She was more than slightly pissed at herself for thinking that after birth control had failed her once before, maybe the newer incarnations would actually do what they were supposed to do. Clearly, that was not the case. And she was pissed at herself for the few times she and Derek had just gone at it pell mell, forgetting condoms in the heat of –

She blamed herself more than she blamed him. He was just a guy: he didn't know or care how she ticked. He just wanted what he wanted and that was fine; but he didn't have to live with the consequences. She did.

And right now, the consequence was seven weeks gestated and working on sending its mama to the hospital for anti-nausea drugs.

This on top of everything else.

This on top of Emily's impending return.

This on top of building a relationship with her father.

This on top of knowing that Derek Morgan would soon be untouchable.

This on top of Emma starting her period for the first time and screaming that she was bleeding to death.

This on top of everything else.

Her broth was ice cold and the crackers unopened. She couldn't eat or drink anything without feeling sicker.

Her cell rang and she looked at the ID. She pushed it away unanswered. She couldn't talk to him; not now. It would just make her feel worse, not that she needed any help in that department.

The phone rang again. Rossi, D.

Not Hot Stuff.

Safer. Rossi was safer. She grabbed the phone and said, "Hey."

"You okay, Kitten?"

"I've got the flu," she sighed. "I won't be at work for a few days. The doctor took me off for a week or until I can keep solid food down and I'm not running a fever."

"Didn't you get the flu shot with the rest of us?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes, yes, I did, and I'm one of the people that gets sick from it, apparently," she said with a frown on her lips. "Did Morgan ask you to call because I didn't answer him?"

"Yes, but I've been worried about you all day. Do you need someone to come home and take care of you?"

"No, I do not. Don't think for a minute that I'm more important than your case. Get the sicko and I'll be better by the time you get back, okay? Don't worry so much about me. I'll survive."

"Don't play tough, Penelope," he scolded. "Do you need someone to take care of you?"

"I have Emma," Penelope said with a low sigh. "Seriously, I'll be okay, Dad. You guys do what you need to do and I'll be here, waiting for you to get home. Don't worry so much."

It was oddly quiet on his end of the phone, then he said, "All right. But you call me if you need anything. ANYTHING, Penelope. I don't want you getting worse."

She bit back a hysterical laugh. "Oh, believe me, I don't want to get any worse. Just ask Strauss what I looked like when I walked into her office this morning. I think I probably looked like death on a Triscuit. Speaking of Triscuits, I have a box of them sitting in front of me and no desire to try to eat any."

"Maybe you should go rest?" he suggested. "Or at least try to."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, knowing that rest wouldn't help much. "I'll call you if I need anything, Dad. Tell Morgan that I'll be fine and he should focus on the case."

"Consider it done," Rossi agreed. "Get some rest, Kitten."

She nodded, knowing he couldn't see it. "Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse from all of the vomiting she'd been doing. "For checking on me."

"No problem. Now, get a barf bowl and go lie down," he ordered. "I've got to get back to work."

* * *

><p>October 18, 2011<p>

Penelope was still feverish, but her temperature finally had stopped spiking. She could keep crackers and soup down now, and she wasn't fighting the morning sickness anymore. It helped that she stayed away from eggs, mango, and carrots. And cheese. Cheese made her gag every time she got near it.

She was glad that the doctor had kept her from going back to work: she was feeling better, but not enough to get her feet back underneath her and deal with violence and bloody gore. She took phone calls from the team as they came in, inevitably to check on her. Derek called every couple of hours, making sure that she was at least trying to rest.

If she didn't know what she knew, she would've been thrilled that he seemingly loved her so much as to be worried. She knew nothing else but that Emily was going to break that fragile bond. It wouldn't be intentional on Emily's part, but it was going to happen. Penelope knew Derek too well already, understood how he ticked – so much like she did. Trust was hard to come by, hard to earn, hard to hold onto; one broken truth and the trust was shattered forever.

And now she had someone else to worry about. She'd decided, again, that no matter the sins of the parents, the child deserved every chance to live. The same promise she'd made herself when she'd found out that she was pregnant with Emma. But now, she was looking at a truly broken future through skewed glasses. The odds of Derek embracing his child after Emily's return were nil.

Maybe she was being selfish, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him. She'd already had plenty of chances. She just couldn't open her mouth and spew the words out.

She finished her cup of soup and curled up on the couch with the blanket that smelled like him, tuning the cable box to TCM so she could nap to the familiar dialogue of old classic movies.

She awoke in the middle of Gigi to pounding on the front door. "Coming, coming, hold your horses," Penelope slurred sleepily, getting up and pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She opened the door and blinked, suddenly wide awake. "Emily –"

Emily pushed past her into the apartment with a blonde-haired boy in tow. "Baby Girl, I need a favor," she said brusquely.

"Anything," Penelope said.

"This is Declan," Emily said. "Declan, this is my friend Penelope. Know how I told you about your sister, Emma? This is Emma's mom. She's going to take care of you today. You stay here and behave. Don't try to leave. Don't leave Penelope's sight, do you hear me?" Emily was down on her knees, holding the boy's shoulders tightly. "DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"Yeah," Declan said quietly. He was pale and a little frightened looking, but he looked heartbreakingly like his father. "I'll be good," he promised.

Emily nodded and released him. He moved to the recliner and flopped into it, pulling out a book and an mp3 player.

Penelope's hands were shaking as they clutched the blanket. "It's not over yet?" she asked.

"Tonight," Emily said. "It's over tonight. I need you to do whatever it takes to keep him safe, Baby Girl. Do you hear me? No one touches Declan. NO ONE." She reached out and pressed her hand to Penelope's forehead. "You're feverish –"

"Flu," Penelope said dismissively. "I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me."

"Are you okay to shoot?" Emily asked, looking Penelope up and down. "It might come down to that."

"I don't believe in –"

"I know you don't fucking believe in guns, but this is important. I know you passed your certification at the FBI. I know you carry. Are you in any shape to pull the trigger?"

"Yes," Penelope said very quietly. "You do what you need to do, and I'll do what I have to. I'll see if Emma can stay the night with someone."

"I don't have to tell you how important this is," Emily said. "Just keep him safe. Please."

Penelope nodded and offered her hand up in a fist. A ghost of a smile flittered across Emily's lips and they did their secret handshake – it still held so much importance after all this time. The terrible two would never break their word. "Get out before someone follows you," Penelope said. "And don't come back till it's over."

* * *

><p>October 19, 2011<br>1:07AM EDT

The front door handle jiggled.

The noise made Penelope open her eyes in a flash. She reached for her gun beneath the blankets, still blinking sleep from her eyes.

The person on the other side of the door gave up trying to pick the lock and shot it out instead. The door flew open to reveal a haggard-looking Chloe Donaghy – the years hadn't been kind to her – with a gun at the ready.

"YOU," Chloe said when her gaze landed on Penelope. She took one step into the living room.

One step was enough.

Penelope didn't even hesitate to pull the trigger.

Chloe slumped to the floor, her head wound spilling blood and brains onto the cream-colored carpet.

Penelope felt no remorse. The woman had tortured her once, and once was enough.

Emily limped into the apartment, bleeding and dazed. She looked down at Chloe on the floor and back up to Penelope. "Baby Girl –"

"He's okay," Penelope said. "He's in my room. Someone needs to clean up. I'm not taking the fall for pulling the trigger. I –"

"The police are already on the way," Emily assured her, shuffling past Chloe's body and losing the fight to stay upright. "The fucking cunt shot me in the kneecap," Emily ground out through clenched teeth.

Penelope got off the couch and rushed over to her friend, holding her up and doing a cursory once over. " She shot you twice," Penelope scolded, pressing her hand against Emily's side, trying to staunch the flow of blood. "You're not supposed to lie to me."

Emily chuckled low in the back of her throat. "I'll be okay –"

"Stop lying." Penelope swore under her breath. "Don't try to move. Just hold still, Em." Declan came into the room in his pajamas. "Declan, go back to my room and stay there," Penelope ordered. "STAY PUT." His eyes widened at the scene, but he ran back to her bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

"It's over," Emily said. "It's all over – he'll be safe." She closed her eyes and exhaled raggedly. "Pen, will you do me a favor?"

"Anything, Sugar Tits," Penelope murmured.

"Adopt Declan. Chloe killed the people who were raising him. Emma is his sister. For god's sake, please do this for me," Emily pleaded as several police officers entered the apartment with guns drawn.

"We need an EMT," Penelope cried. "Gunshot wounds to the knee and torso –"

"This one is dead," one of the policemen said.

"Call Gregory Douglas at CIA HQ in Langley," Emily choked out. "He's my handler. He'll explain everything."

They whisked Emily away and asked Penelope a lot of questions, then they questioned Declan. By the time they were relocated to a hotel, Penelope was starting to feel exhausted from the effects of the fever and the stress of shooting someone. She pretty much faceplanted into the hotel bed and didn't move. But she woke up just enough to feel Declan crawling into bed with her and hugging her before she went back to sleep.

* * *

><p>October 19, 2011<br>4:47PM EDT

Penelope finished giving her side of the story to the CIA agents and left Langley for what she hoped would be the last time. She'd done what needed doing. That was all.

Emily would be in the hospital for a few days and then released on her own recognizance. Penelope had insisted that she be released into her care, stupid as that was.

And now…

Now came the hard part.

She'd already met with Declan's handler and they began drawing up the necessary paperwork to transfer his custody from the State to her. He fell into a grey area kind of like the witness protection program, so it wasn't difficult. She'd just had to prove her ability as a parent (Emma was a glowing recommendation, apparently), and her commitment to making Declan a part of her family, then she had to prove she made enough money to keep everything afloat.

Declan was only a few months younger than Emma was. It sank into her head with startling clarity just what had gone down when she'd been extracted. It was frightening.

And now, she had to figure out how to tell her co-workers that Emily Prentiss was alive. Everything else was secondary to that.

She knew the team was on their way home because she'd gotten numerous texts. It was time to come clean.

Penelope one-touch dialed Rossi. "Dad?"

"Kitten, what's wrong? You haven't answered anyone in two days –"

"Daddy, listen to me. When you get back to the BAU, there will be men from the CIA waiting to talk to you, Hotch, and Strauss. They've already talked to the Director." Penelope took a deep breath. "Emily Prentiss is alive. They faked her death so she could eliminate an international drug lord and head of a prostitution ring; and save Ian Doyle's son. That's all you need to know right now." She exhaled and closed her eyes. "I didn't tell anyone she was alive. I couldn't. I was sworn to silence."

"Penelope, we'll talk about this later," Rossi said. "I have too many eyes on me right now. Literally. All these idiots want to know what you're saying because you haven't talked to us. How are you feeling, Kitten?"

"Better today," she said quietly. "No fever."

"Good. Do you want to say hello to the rest of the team?"

"Do I have to?" she spluttered anxiously.

"You're on speaker," Rossi said.

"Garcia, how are you feeling?" Reid asked.

"A little bit tired, but much better today," Penelope said woodenly. She knew if she said she was upset because the entire world had been turned upside down, everything would crash down around her. She wasn't ready for that yet.

"Have you eaten anything?" Derek asked.

"Yes."

"You know, girl, getting you to answer questions is like pulling teeth," Derek commented.

She laughed in spite of herself. "I'm just ready to get back to work and get out of the apartment." She wasn't going to tell them that she'd been out of the apartment while they cleaned up the mess and replaced the carpet.

"Well, we're going to do drinks tonight after we get back," Hotch said. "Want to come along?"

"Actually, Garcia and I have plans," Rossi spoke up. "She's going to be looking at my guest house."

"Right," Penelope said. "My landlord is being a jerk and Dave offered me and Emma a place to stay for a while." She thanked her lucky stars that her father knew what to say.

"Mama, if you were having problems with your landlord, you know I'd help you out," Derek said.

"Morgan's got the hots for you," JJ spoke up. "When we're out on the road, it's 'Baby Girl' this and 'Garcia' that –"

"Hey, shut up," Derek protested.

Penelope laughed. "I've missed you all," she said. "And I'm sorry."

"For what, BG?" Derek asked.

"For everything." She choked up and hung up the phone very quickly. She was going to have to run the other way and hold on tight or she'd get blown right the fuck away.

Declan and Emma came into the living room. "Mama," Emma said, "Declan and I have been talking –"

Penelope wiped away her tears. "Yeah? And what have you decided, Monkey?"

"We've decided that Declan should get my room and I should sleep on the couch tonight," Emma said. "And that we should have broccoli casserole and tuna for supper."

Penelope smiled. "You're okay with Declan staying?" she asked.

Emma nodded. "He's cool."

"Declan, are you okay with staying with us?" Penelope asked. He nodded, not really saying much. He didn't have to. "Good, because it's going to be permanent as soon as I sign some paperwork. Welcome to the family, Declan Garcia."

The boy grinned and laughed. "That sounds funny," he said. "I like Declan Doyle."

"Well, I'm Penelope Garcia and you'll be my son, so you're Declan Garcia," Penelope replied. "So learn to love it, kiddo."

Emma did a little dance and laughed. "Mama, can we have broccoli casserole?" she asked.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Yes, okay, let me get dinner started," she sighed, chuckling.

"Can I help?" Declan asked.

She smiled. "I'd like that, Declan. C'mon – first thing's first, you both have to wash your hands."

* * *

><p>October 19, 2011<br>10:20 PM EDT

She heard the doorknob jiggle and she sat up, reaching for her gun. Then she heard a frustrated swear and knocking instead. "Baby Girl, you changed the lock," Derek called, whining in frustration.

She tucked the gun away again, her heart still racing. She crossed the living room and opened the door before kissing him with wild abandon. "Someone broke in," she breathed between kisses. "They had to change the locks."

He closed the door and said, "Mama, we've gotta talk –"

"No," she murmured, "we do not have to talk." She pulled him to the couch and sat down, tugging on his arm till he sat down with her. "Shit happens, Derek –"

"Penelope," he said, "when your place got broken into, the first person you should've called was me." He threaded his fingers with hers and kissed the back of her hand. "But you called Rossi instead. Do you know how much that hurts me, Baby Girl? To know that I'm not number one on your speed dial when it counts?"

"Hot Stuff…"

"Let me finish," Derek insisted. "I'm head over heels in love with you. All I want to do is make it better for you and Emma, and now I don't know where I stand in your life."

Her heart stopped beating when he said he was in love with her. Her chest was tight, her lips dry, panic welling up in her belly. "I… I'm in love with you, too," she whispered.

"Then move in with me – don't take Rossi's guest house."

It was only a matter of hours before he found out her duplicity. She couldn't hurt him anymore than she already had. "Let me think about it," she whispered, kissing him gently on the lips. "It's not just Emma and me anymore, Derek."

"You're preg-"

"No, baby, I… I did something crazy and adopted Declan Doyle," she said quickly, interrupting him. "That's why we're out here instead of in my room. He's sleeping there till we find a bigger place. Hence Dave's guest house."

He was just staring at her. "You just… adopted some kid?" he asked.

"Emma's brother," Penelope corrected. "It's a long story. And I don't want to talk about it tonight. Can we just… do something else?"

He sighed. "You're going to have to work on the not keeping secrets thing," Derek growled, kissing her hungrily. "You're not CIA anymore," he breathed.

"No, I'm not," she agreed breathlessly. "But everyone has secrets."

"I'm going to teach that boy how to throw a football –"

She laughed. "He plays la crosse, handsome."

"Oh." He smiled. "At least he likes sports."

She kissed him and whispered, "Why are you so… you?"

"I love you, stupid," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a box. "And I want to marry you and be Emma's dad and – now Declan's."

She stared at him as he opened the box and showed her the most beautiful pearl and ruby ring she'd ever seen in her life. But that didn't make her feel any better. "Derek, no," Penelope whispered. "No, this isn't right – I…"

"Baby Girl, I'm not saying we have to get married now or even right away, but –"

She couldn't keep the words from leaving her lips. "Derek, Emily is alive," she confessed, covering her mouth once the words had escaped.

He stared at her. "What?"

"She's been alive the whole time," Penelope whispered. "I didn't know until they arrested me and accused me of sabotaging her mission – I had to promise not to tell anyone, or they would have found a way to make me disappear."

"No –"

"Emily dropped Declan off yesterday and gave me strict instructions to keep him safe at any cost," she said. "I'll let Emily tell you the rest, but I –" She got up and took a step back. "I can't live with lying to you anymore because I love you and –"

She wasn't surprised when he got up and walked out.

But she surprised herself more when she didn't cry.

She'd just told the truth and lost everything.

And she couldn't cry.


	10. Chapter 10

I still don't own anything – but I have some shiny new earrings. Does that count? No? OMGz WHUT? Damn.

* * *

><p>Part ten:<p>

* * *

><p>October 21, 2011<p>

"Hey," Reid said from the doorway. "Hotch wants everyone in the conference room in ten minutes. Morgan said I should tell you."

Penelope snorted indelicately. "Of course he did," she said slightly bitterly. "Because all of a sudden, he's not speaking to me, right?" When Reid licked his lips nervously and nodded, she rolled her eyes and sighed. "Spencer, I understand completely that this seems like an about-face, but I don't care if I ever see Derek Morgan again. And he feels the same way."

"Well, regardless of your… dysfunctional relationship status, conference room in a few," Reid repeated. "It must be pretty important if you're getting called in."

Penelope nodded and sighed, going back to work. She'd almost forgotten about the missive, till the intercom buzzed. "Garcia, get in here," Hotch ordered.

She got up and rushed down the corridor, stopping to grab a quick cup of coffee and Danish out of the break room on her way. Everyone stared at her as she came in. "What?" Penelope said defensively around a mouthful. "I'm hungry!"

"Sit down," Hotch ordered.

She huffed but complied, trying not to look at Derek just like he was trying not to look at her.

Rossi cleared his throat. "Something has come up that might undermine the team," he said, glancing at Penelope. "It involves Emily Prentiss."

Penelope paled and pushed the remains of her snack away. Even JJ and Reid noticed that, shifting in their seats and taking a sudden interest because Penelope looked stricken.

The door opened and Emily hobbled in on crutches.

"How did you get here?" Penelope gasped, jumping up and immediately shuffling Emily into her seat.

"I stole a car," Emily said dryly. "Stop fussing over me, Pen. I'm fine." She smiled hesitantly around the room. "Hi, guys."

JJ rounded on Penelope. "YOU KNEW SHE WAS ALIVE AND DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING?"

Rossi stepped between them. "Lay off Garcia, JJ," he said. "I think you'll find that she's not at fault here."

"No, she just didn't see fit to tell anyone that –"

"She was sworn to secrecy," Emily said.

"And since when do you fight Garcia's battles?" JJ snapped, glaring at Rossi.

"You do not want to go down that road, Jen," Rossi said in a very calm tone that meant that he was seething beneath the surface.

Penelope edged toward the door, knowing she didn't want to be there if shit really hit the fan. She was almost to safety when Derek called, "Where do you think you're going, Baby Girl?" His tone was condescending and malicious.

"I don't need to stay here to be slandered, since you've all drawn your conclusions about what happened already," Penelope snapped. "You've made that completely clear since I told you, Morgan."

"Enough!" Hotch yelled. "Everyone sit down and shut up."

"I gave Emily my seat," Penelope said very quietly.

Hotch got up and gestured. "Park it," he ordered. "Because we're going to be in here till we've worked this mess out."

"I brought my pain pills, so I'm good for as long as it takes!" Emily said cheerfully. "And I've got all the time in the world, now."

Penelope sat down and looked across the table at Emily. "Tell them," she ordered. "You tell them everything, Emily. Start at the hospital."

"What, you don't want me to start when you shot Chloe Donaghy?" Emily asked, chuckling. "I didn't think you'd actually have the balls to pull the trigger, Baby Girl –"

"Start in the hospital," Penelope repeated, her voice taking on a steely edge that Emily finally reacted to.

"Okay," the other woman said, her mirth disappearing. "I was extracted from the hospital by the CIA. They faked my death and put me through physical rehabilitation and conditioning so I could go undercover on a mission to take out Chloe Donaghy – the mother of Ian Doyle's son, Declan." She looked down at her knee. "You can all see how well that went."

"I sent emails to her old address, because I needed to think I was talking to someone," Penelope said. "The Agency intercepted them and thought I was a threat to the mission, so they arrested me on trumped up charges. That's when I found out that Emily was alive."

"Penelope was forced to swear an oath to stay silent for the duration of the mission, or she would be forcibly detained until I came out on the flipside," Emily spoke up. "It is NOT her fault. None of this is her doing and she should NOT be blamed for not telling you that I was out there, kicking criminal ass and taking names."

"Are you stoned?" JJ asked, looking over at Emily. "Because like hell I'm not going to hold her responsible for –"

"JJ, I think we need to hear the rest of the story," Reid said. "There's more."

"When I was sick, Emily showed up on my doorstep with Declan and told me to keep him safe, no matter the cost," Penelope said very quietly. "Chloe Donaghy broke into my apartment and I took the shot. Emily came in a couple of minutes later, and… here we are."

"You adopted Declan Doyle yesterday," Rossi said. "You forgot to mention that."

Penelope shrugged. "It's not relevant," she said. "Declan is Emma's brother. I couldn't NOT adopt him at this point."

"I asked her to," Emily said simply. "And, for the record? Don't piss Penelope off. She's a better shot than any of us."

Reid cleared his throat. "I have a couple of questions."

"We'll try to answer them," Emily said.

"Why you?" Reid asked, looking at Emily.

Emily smiled sadly. "I knew names and locations. Even with Doyle dead, the fundamentals of his empire stayed the same. Chloe took over as frontrunner. I got in on the bottom floor, as security. Pretty straightforward operation till the emails almost blew my cover."

Reid nodded, satisfied with her explanation. He looked over at Garcia. "You changed after you were 'arrested'. Is it because you knew Emily was alive?"

Penelope swallowed hard and nodded. "Keeping that secret almost killed me," she said, glancing over at Derek. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't want to be the one that had to tell any of you that everything you knew was a lie." She caught his gaze and held it for a long second, not liking the simmering anger she saw reflected in his eyes. "I thought so many times that if I told someone, it would be better. But I knew that was a lie. So I kept my mouth shut and started trying to distance myself from you. So when today happened, it wouldn't hurt so fucking much. But that's a lie I told myself because it hurts worse than I ever imagined." She got up and glanced at Hotch. "I need to use the loo. Excuse me."

She fled the room, all but running down the corridor to the restroom. She locked herself inside a stall and promptly lost her shit. She hit the door a couple of times because it was a nice, solid target, then she kicked it for good measure. By then, she was crying.

Tough-girl Garcia was at her breaking point. She wanted to give up, collect her kids, and get the hell out of Dodge. She couldn't deal with the blame that was being heaped on her shoulders, couldn't hide from the anger that Morgan was constantly dishing out in her direction. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. And she didn't want Rossi taking one for her because it wasn't fair to him. He didn't sign on for any of this.

Her hands splayed across her belly, and she whimpered, "Oh, little one, what are we going to do?" She swiped away her tears, straightened her skirt and her sweater, then opened the door. She was on her way out of the restroom when she ran straight into JJ.

"Hotch sent me to get you," JJ said.

"I should've run like hell," Penelope commented wryly.

"Emily doesn't want us to blame you, but I can't help it," JJ said. "You could have said something, anything –"

"No," Penelope murmured, "I couldn't." She brushed past JJ and made her way back to the conference room. She got her cup of coffee and the last of her danish from in front of Emily and sat back down in Hotch's seat before she continued her snack.

"Welcome back," Derek said snidely.

Penelope licked her fingers and glared at him. "The peanut gallery can stuff it," she said. "Unless it has something productive to add to the conversation."

"Play nice," Rossi scolded. "Both of you."

Hotch put both his hands down on the table and said, "The question of the hour is 'where do we go from here?' Can any of you put this behind us and get back to work?"

Penelope and Emily raised their hands without hesitation. Rossi paused, then added his hand. Reid took a moment longer than Rossi, but his hand joined them.

"What will it take for you two?" Hotch asked JJ and Derek.

JJ shrugged. "Time," she said.

Derek snorted. "I am never going to be able to understand," he said. "So don't try to make me, Hotch." He pushed back from the table and stood up. "I'd like to go back to work now." He turned to leave, but stopped, turned the other direction, strode over and kissed Penelope roughly, deeply, his fingers tangling in her hair, loosening her messy bun. "One for the road," he muttered before storming out.

Penelope touched her lips and burst into tears, running from the room in shame. Oh god, she really had lost everything! And he'd just cemented it in front of everyone.

* * *

><p>January 10, 2012<p>

Penelope headed to work with a spring in her step; it had been so long since she'd felt good that it was a foreign feeling. But the sonogram had gone well and she was armed with pictures of 'Peanut', as Rossi had dubbed his unborn grandkid. It was also the first day she had to wear maternity clothes, so she didn't feel quite so confined.

She'd already spoken to Hotch and Strauss about maternity leave and stressed the importance of being allowed to tell her co-workers in due time.

Apparently, due time was due.

Emily had settled back into the natural order of things and eventually, JJ had forgiven them both. But Derek Morgan was still openly hostile toward Penelope. It broke her heart to see him fawning over Emily like she was the last woman on earth, but maybe it was for the best.

She was strong enough to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders as she took off her coat and hustled into Rossi's office. "I brought you pictures!" Penelope cried. She offered him one of the print-outs with a smile. "It's a girl!"

"She's always gonna be Peanut to me," Rossi said with a smile, drawing her into his arms for a huge hug. "Congratulations, kiddo – she's gorgeous. Like a peanut."

Penelope laughed. "Don't be silly, Daddy," she said, hugging him tighter, not realizing they had an audience.

"Well, isn't this cozy," Derek said coldly.

She spun around and stared at him, stricken. "Derek –"

"Look, I get it," Derek said. "You couldn't wait forever to get into Rossi's pants."

"What?" Penelope spluttered, stepping away from her father. "How can you even – Derek –"

"Morgan, you've overstepped," Rossi growled.

"Don't defend her," Derek spat. "She's brought nothing but trouble to this unit, Rossi. And now that she's fucked you and me, who's next? Hotch? Reid? Maybe JJ, since she's into homewrecking."

"CONFERENCE ROOM, NOW!" Rossi roared. "EVERYONE!"

Penelope jumped a little, surprised at the rage in his tone, not to mention the sheer volume of the proclamation. "I –"

"You, too, Kitten," Rossi said, lowering his tone. "It's about time we told them, isn't it?"

"Which part?" she asked weakly as Rossi picked up the sonogram pictures.

"All of it," Rossi replied. "C'mon." He offered her his arm. "When I'm done, no one is going to fuck with you again. I will shoot them myself."

When they got to the conference room, everyone was already seated around the table. They were all confused as to why they were there except for Morgan. He glared at them as they walked in, then reached for Emily's hand with its simple diamond ring on it.

Penelope's heart sank into her toes. So he'd replaced her; she already knew that. But she didn't expect it to hurt quite so much.

"As most of you have noticed, Penelope and I have grown close in the last few months," Rossi said, his arm reassuringly comforting around her shoulders. "But it's not because I'm a ladykiller or because we're sleeping together. Penelope is my daughter."

Reid and Hotch both had frowns on their lips. Emily dropped her cup of coffee, spilling it. JJ looked shocked. And Derek? Derek's face hardened into stone.

"Are you serious?" Emily asked.

Penelope nodded. "Yeah," she said very quietly.

Rossi hugged her shoulders tighter. "It's still a new thing for us and we're trying to build a relationship on a shifting foundation," he said. "Her mother was bipolar, so we have a lot of trust issues; if I'd have known that Cassandra had a kid, I would've challenged for custody, but the woman went into the wind and…" He looked down at Penelope. "And I missed 30 years with my daughter because I walked away and went back to Caroline. Maybe that was stupid. I don't know. All I know is that I have a beautiful, intelligent, loving daughter who has embraced me with open – if slightly reserved – arms, and three incredible grandchildren."

Penelope smiled shakily as he held up the sonogram pictures and all but waved them at the team before putting them on the table. "Dave, I thought I was supposed to announce that I'm pregnant," she said quietly. "Not grandpa."

Rossi laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Sorry, Kitten. I was on a roll."

"I'll say," JJ said, her eyes wide as she looked at the pictures. "Congratulations, PG."

Emily squealed as she got up and hugged both Penelope and Rossi, completely oblivious to the fact that neither of the targets of her affection returned the gesture. "I'm so glad you found your dad, BG – and you're PG! I'm going to be a godmom again!" Emily enthused.

Penelope's smile was very weak as she looked over at Derek. "I may be PG, but it was very much NC-17," she said very quietly to Emily. "And I see congratulations are in order for you, too," she whispered.

Emily looked down at her hand, then waved it dismissively. "It's kind of a probationary thing," she explained. "We're trying it again. Derek's mom is coming down for the weekend and –"

Hotch's voice cut through. "Garcia, I know I told you this before, but now it has more meaning: congratulations. From what I've seen so far, I can report to Strauss that you and Dave being assigned to the same team will not affect the bottom line of productivity and morale."

Emily backed off and went back to her seat, only to turn to Morgan and say, "I think I'm not ready for a baby and a white picket fence."

"Me either," Derek replied, glancing up at Penelope. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were full of pain. "We should wait till –" His hands wrapped Emily's tenderly.

Penelope couldn't take it anymore. She saved her sanity and shrugged her father off and walked out. JJ followed her at a run, but Penelope was already collecting her coat and purse from Rossi's office. "Tell Hotch I'm taking a personal day," Penelope said. "I can't stand there and watch them being all freaking… lovey. It makes me sick. She's my best friend, but I can't talk to her anymore without feeling like I've –" Her face crumpled for a moment as she tried to regain her composure.

"Is the baby his?" JJ asked very quietly, hugging her friend. "You don't have to say yes – I can tell just by the look on your face. I'm sorry. Are you going to tell him?"

"He's happy with her," Penelope whimpered. "Why would I hurt them? Why would I hurt my best friend and her – my – Derek."

JJ smiled a little. "I think you just proved why," she whispered. "You couldn't decide if he was hers or yours."

"He left me," Penelope whispered. "I told him Emily was alive and he left my apartment and the next day, he – he was a different person. He was so full of anger and hurt and – the next thing I know, they're back together and how can I ruin their chance at happiness?" She sighed and rubbed her belly, trying to calm down Peanut, who was kicking hard. "I need to go, JJ. I'm sorry about the word vomit – I didn't mean to just dump on you."

"Figure out what you want, and go for it," JJ said firmly. "It's Derek Morgan – don't be wishy-washy. When you get in the game, play for keeps."

"I'm not the girl that men see across a crowded room and write sonnets about," Penelope said, shrugging into her coat. "Why ever would he want me now that he has her?" With that, she turned and walked away.

She didn't have much face left to save. She'd let her heart reside on her sleeve for far too long.


	11. Chapter 11

I still don't own anything worthwhile. I could use a 'get out of jail free' card for this next week, though…

* * *

><p>Part Eleven:<p>

* * *

><p>January 12, 2012<p>

"Stupid manual doesn't even have all the parts in the fucking diagram," Penelope muttered, finally managing to put together the crib. It had been almost an hour in the works, but if she'd have waited for Rossi to help, it would've been more like five hours. Her father couldn't follow directions to save his life: which was probably why he had so many failed relationships under his belt.

She got up and stretched, easing some of the kinks out of her back and placating Peanut's desire to move around. "Yes, hello, sweetie," Penelope chuckled.

Once she got some feeling back into her legs, she left the room that would be the nursery and wandered around, picking up dirty clothes and putting them in hampers, and randomly cleaning as she went. It was too quiet in the house with Emma and Declan in school instead of running around and shouting like heathens. She didn't like it when it was so quiet.

Only one way to solve that problem. She plugged her iPod into the stereo in her room and cranked it up. She danced her way into the kids' bathroom to the manic beat of Muse's "Supermassive Black Hole" and proceeded to clean the toilet and scrub the shower – while singing off-key and shaking her booty more than maybe she should have.

She was still too antsy and jittery when she finished cleaning. Maybe a long bath and a nap would help. She danced her way into her bathroom to the end of the Rogue Traders' "Throw Your Arms Around Me" and started running the water, crumbling a bubble bar into the hot water. She watched as the bubbles frothed up and the scent of honey and chocolate wafted up to meet her nose, making her moan softly with hunger.

Damn it, she was already tired of being hungry all the time.

The song shifted to Duffy's "Mercy", and Penelope shook off her hunger pangs and began to sing along and dance, definitely doing more dips and twists than she should have with her way more than ample size. She didn't care, though, and she did a slow removal of her clothes as she sang and danced, leaving a trail of skirt, stockings, and blouse in her wake.

Dancing around in her lace hipsters and bra was so fulfilling and made her feel beautiful and sexy in a way that no man would ever understand. She was happy. She had a beautiful family, a beautiful house, and a good job. She had a good father, who tried so hard. She had friends who loved her and –

She felt someone watching her, so she whirled around. She opened her mouth but no sound came out, save a shriek that could have become a scream if she'd let it.

"HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET INTO MY HOUSE?" she shouted over the music, grabbing for a bathtowel, only coming up with a tiny handtowel. It was so ridiculous that she flung it away and hid behind the shower curtain instead. She fumbled with the faucet and turned the water off.

"Your dad gave me the key," Derek said.

"What the fuck! Like hell he did!" she exclaimed. "Get the hell out before I call the police."

"Baby Girl, we need to talk –"

"Don't you DARE," Penelope snapped. "Don't you dare just waltz in here with your perfect looks and your perfect attitude and expect me to fucking forgive you for the hell you've put me through. Don't even fucking do it, Derek Morgan."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, you get the last word, Penelope – you always do."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed and tossed something her way. She dropped the shower curtain and grabbed the tiny glittering object with ninja-like reflexes. She looked down at it, her eyes widening as she saw Emily's engagement ring in her hand. "It means I made a mistake," Derek said. "And I'm going to do everything, including groveling, begging, pleading, and walking around on my goddamn knees to make it right."

She stepped out from behind the curtain, suddenly knowing that she held all the power in the world in her hands. It didn't matter that she was just in her underwear; all that mattered was that he was here. "I don't want you to be here because you pity me, or just because this is your Peanut," Penelope said, her voice low and dangerous. "I want you here because you want to be here. Because you can't stand to be without me. Because you love me. Because you want to be here more than anything else in the whole fucking world."

"Baby Girl –"

"Grovel harder, asshole," she growled, stalking over to him like a leopard aiming for its prey. She'd never felt bolder, more brazen, more in control of a situation in her entire life as she pushed him onto his knees and held him there. "You wanna be here? Prove it."

The music changed again, this time to "Howl" by Florence and the Machine. Derek reached for her, his hands clutching her hips gently, pulling her close enough that he could kiss her rounded abdomen. The tender gesture made her shiver, and her heart lurched when he whispered, "Hi, Peanut – I'm your daddy, and I'm sorry I made your Mama so mad."

"Don't be so precious," Penelope muttered. "I haven't decided if I'm going to take you back yet. I don't need you, you know. You're just like that gorgeous pair of six-inch purple stilettos I bought right before I found out I was pregnant: completely impractical and unnecessary, but so fucking hot I want to die."

"Mama –"

"I'm still pissed," she said. "You can't just play rough with this girl's heart and expect to –" Her mouth opened into a perfect 'o' when he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down. "Derek, don't you dare – I'm talking to you!"

He smirked up at her. "I thought you said you wanted me to prove I want to be here, Baby Girl," he teased. "This is the best way I can think of to do just that." He turned his face against her leg, nuzzling her thigh with his nose, then nipping the sensitive flesh with his teeth.

Her breath quickened, turning shallow and punctuated with tiny, soft moans. "Derek, please," she whimpered.

"Please what?"

"Please stop so we can have an adult conversation –"

"Oh, Mama, we can have a very… adult… conversation," he said. "And then we can really talk." He turned his attention inward, gently nudging her legs a little further apart so he could tease her with a little bit of five o'clock shadow.

Her hormones had been in overdrive for so long that the idea of an 'adult conversation' was overriding everything else. Like being pissed at him for being a jerk. Like being pissed at her father for giving him a key. Like being pissed at herself for giving in so easily. He needed to work for her forgiveness, not just have it handed to him because - OH, but that was so damn good and she hadn't been laid in so long…

"You're gonna give me road rash," she protested, giggling a little when he tickled behind her knee. "Derek, stop it – DEREK!" she shouted when he stood up and scooped her into his strong arms. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He carried her into her bedroom and dropped her on the bed before taking his shirt off and starting on his pants. "I'm showing you how much I want to be here, Penelope – I thought we were past this part of the conversation already," Derek said, rolling his eyes and sighing patiently.

"I can't just forgive you –"

"Why not?" he demanded. "I'm not going to do it again. Why not just forgive me and we can move on to finding a house for our family and –"

"I have a house for my family," Penelope shot back.

"That your father owns. Attached to his mansion."

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled. "You seriously thought I was pregnant with Rossi's baby?"

"Mama, I was seeing red," Derek sighed, shaking his head. "You and him – you've gotten so cozy with him –"

"It's always only ever been you," Penelope admitted very, very quietly. "Since you threatened to tie me to the hospital bed with duct tape and stayed up all night with me, reading funny poems and watching movies. I didn't want to be the person that just… lost my head."

"Penelope, I think we're past that," Derek whispered, kissing her tenderly. "I'm fucking head over heels in love with you and every minute I was with Emily, I wanted to run away and find you."

"You were so mean, you big doodie-head," she pouted, earning another kiss for her efforts. "Is Emily really pissed off?"

Derek sighed and shook his head. "She's relieved, more than anything else," he said, not elaborating further. Instead, he let his fingers do the talking – running them over her most erogenous zones, expecting the pleased moans. "I missed you," he growled possessively. "My Baby Girl."

"Derek, don't be precious," Penelope breathed shakily when he reached around her to unhook her bra – instead winding up with his face in her cleavage. "You are such a goof –"

"Mama, your breasts are perfect," he said. "I'm absolutely a breast man now."

She laughed and shook her head, bending down to kiss the top of his head. "They're enormous," she commented. "That's the only part I absolutely loathe about being pregnant – the need to buy new bras every few weeks because they've grown again."

He looked up at her with glitteringly hopeful eyes. "Really? Can I come shopping with you?" he asked too eagerly.

"Someone has to carry all the shopping bags," she teased, kissing the tip of his nose. "Rossi helped me buy the baby furniture the other day… and you should have heard him bitch and moan about how much the boxes weighed."

A frown creased into Derek's face suddenly. "Is he really your dad?" he asked.

She felt the tenuous thread of their newly reformed relationship quaking under the strain of the question. "Derek, I will show you the paperwork later," she promised, "but I really am David Rossi's child. He met my mom in San Francisco and they had a pretty torrid affair – to the point he was going to leave Caroline. Until he found out that Mom was off her medicine and not exactly right in the head. He went back to his wife and my mom tried to kill herself. She found out she was pregnant while she was locked up in the looney bin. And here I am."

She didn't feel quite so much like sexy time now. Talking about her mother always made her feel like she should be looking out more for her own mental health, even though she'd gone out of her way to be her mother's polar opposite. When Cassandra had been on her meds, she'd been fine; when she went off them, she turned into a crazily manic abuser. Drugs, sex, stealing money – she'd never really been in control. And Penelope had been brought up in the thick of it all, learning very quickly how to dodge her mother's insanity.

But that didn't stop her from blaming herself for breaking curfew, trying to run away from her mother's worst manic phase, and finally returning home to find out that her parents had been killed by a drunk driver while out looking for her. Her mother had left a note on her pillow, begging forgiveness and swearing that she'd go to the doctor and get her lithium levels stabilized again.

She still replayed the fight in her nightmares, only her mother morphed into the drunk driver that killed her parents. Maybe a fitting picture, but not true.

Penelope only hoped that her mother had finally found peace in death.

She sat up abruptly, shrugging Derek off and collecting her discarded panties and bra off the floor. "The kids will be home soon," she said, feeling way more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. She put her underwear back on and dug around in the dresser for a pair of sweats. Something comfortable and like a warm blanket. She finally found some garishly plaid flannel lounge pants and a long sleeve striped t-shirt and threw them on, trying not to cry.

Derek, for his part, was still on the bed in only his boxer briefs and a worried look. "Baby Girl –"

"Don't," she said, holding up a hand. "I'm okay."

"No, you aren't." He got up and pulled her into his arms before she could get away. Being tucked up in his embrace after so long, tight against his warm body, gave her a sense of security and all being right with the world – but it wasn't right. It wasn't okay. "Please talk to me… what's going on in that hard head of yours, Penelope?"

"My kids will be home from school soon and the last thing they need is to see us naked," she said, laying her head on his chest. "I –"

"Goddess, that's not what's going on."

"I hate profilers, you know that?" she said grumpily. "You make it so damn hard."

"Make what so damn hard?" he asked, confused.

"You make it so hard to hide things. Like insecurities. And guilt. And… things."

"Like Peanut?"

"Peanut has a name," Penelope said firmly.

"Oh?"

"Brielle."

His forehead scrunched up. "Okay –"

"It's French: it means 'exalted goddess'," she murmured, her voice softening. "I figured it would always remind me of us. I haven't told Dad yet, because he'll get bent out of shape about it not being Italian." She glanced up at him. "What's that look for?"

"It's a girl?" he breathed.

"Yes, Brielle Peanut Garcia is very much a girl," Penelope said, laughing. "And she loves it when Mama dances. She calms down and goes to sleep if I dance for her."

"Brielle Peanut Morgan," he corrected.

She poked him in the chest. "I haven't decided yet if I'm going to take you back," she muttered.

"Yes, you have."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, I have decided, but –"

"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" he asked softly.

She leaned back into his chest, still half afraid if she blinked, he'd disappear and she'd be cuddled up with a drool-covered pillow again. "Because you were happy with Emily."

"Was I?"

"You seemed to be," she corrected herself with a sigh. "And because I didn't want to be that woman: the one that gets knocked up on purpose to keep her man and make him miserable. I wanted you to be able to make the choice for yourself and you chose Emily. It's okay. I knew it would happen. I was okay with it. Well, sort of."

"Crazy, silly girl," Derek whispered, "you shouldn't be so damn noble all the time."

"I didn't get pregnant on purpose," she said quickly.

"I know you didn't," Derek said. "But I can't say I'm not glad it happened. Because I'm pretty excited right now."

She chuckled. "Of course you are," she murmured.

She heard the door slamming downstairs and a shout of, "MAMA!" over the music.

Penelope kissed Derek's chest and said, "You should probably put clothes on. I'll go make the kids a snack. Are you going to stay for dinner?"

"Mama, I'll stay for the rest of my life if you'll have me."

She pulled out of his arms and said, "Let's start with dinner. I'll be downstairs."

She went down to the kitchen and saw Declan raiding the fridge while Emma stood on a stepstool to reach the plates, shaking her hips to the music, humming along. "Well, hello," Penelope said. Declan lurched in the fridge and banged his head on the shelf. Emma jumped and almost fell off the stool. "What's for snacks?"

"Cheese and pears," Declan said, rubbing the top of his head.

"Mama, did you know Mr. Morgan is up at Mr. Rossi's house?" Emma asked, finally getting down plastic saucers. "I miss Mr. Morgan. He's really nice, Declan."

"Actually, Mr. Morgan is upstairs," Penelope said. "He came over to talk to me."

Emma flailed in excitement, sending a saucer flying across the room, almost taking Derek out as he stepped into the kitchen. "MR. MORGAN!" Emma shouted. "I missed you!"

"You missed me so much you're throwing plates at me?" Derek asked wryly.

Declan came out of the fridge with a wedge of Brie and three pears. His face fell as he tried to balance all of the food, but he ended up dropping two of the pears. "Shoot!" he yelped.

Emma ran over and grabbed the fallen fruit. "We'll just wash 'em and cut out the bruises," she assured him with a smile. "It's okay." She glanced over at Derek. "You want some, Mr. Morgan?"

"Sure," Derek said. He crossed the kitchen and helped Declan balance the cheese and the remaining pear. "Let me get another – you get that stuff to the table," he instructed with a smile.

"Can I help?" Penelope asked, chuckling a little.

"Mama, we can do it ourselves," Emma sighed. "I'm ten now – you said I can use a real knife if I'm careful."

Declan put the food on the table. "Yeah, Mom," he said. "We can do it. You should sit down and chill."

Derek came out of the fridge with another pear and winked at her. "Yeah, Mama," he said teasingly. "You should sit down, put your feet up and chill."

"You, too, Mr. Morgan," Emma ordered, rushing up and grabbing the fruit from his hands and retreating just as quickly. "Sit down!"

Penelope started laughing and couldn't stop. "Oh, handsome," she gasped between chortles, "you got told!" She sat down and put her feet up on the chair across from her, watching Emma and the paring knife like a hawk.

Derek moved behind her and began rubbing her shoulders, leaning down once in a while to kiss the top of her head.

"Declan, gimme a saucer," Emma instructed, putting the halves of a pear, sans core, onto it. "Now, put some cheese in there," she ordered, pointing at the round spot where the core had been before she'd attacked it with a spoon. "And give it to Mama."

"Emma, don't be so bossy," Penelope scolded, but her heart wasn't really in it. Emma was a leader, not a follower, but she was borderline overkill on the dispatching of orders. She couldn't bear to nip it in the bud, though, because that was just who her daughter was – the future empress of the universe.

Declan came over and handed Penelope the saucer. "It's okay," he said. "It's nice to have a sister, even if she is kind of bossy sometimes."

Derek laughed. "Good way to look at it, my man. I have two sisters."

Emma headed toward them with a smile on her lips and another pear at the ready. "Mr. Morgan, this one is for you," she said.

Derek accepted the saucer and moved Penelope's feet off the chair long enough that he could sit down and put her feet in his lap. She chuckled and began to eat. "By the way, we haven't really met yet," he said to Declan. "I'm Derek Morgan. I work with your mom."

Declan nodded. "I know. Mr. Rossi told me about you."

"Declan, snack," Emma said, passing it over.

Penelope licked her fingers and smiled. "That was an excellent snack," she commented.

Emma gaped at her. "You ate it all already?" she asked.

"Your little sister was hungry," Penelope said defensively. "Sorry."

"It's really good if you eat it slowly," Declan explained patiently.

Derek chuckled and said, "I don't think Peanut cares."

"Not at all," Penelope admitted. "She just wants to be fed."

He finished eating one half of his pear, then got up and offered her the rest. She smiled and shook her head, gesturing for him to finish it. "Who has homework tonight?" Penelope asked, changing the subject.

"I have SO MUCH homework," Emma said.

"I don't have much," Declan replied. "Do you want me to help you make supper or do you want me to put away the dishes?"

"Well, I –"

"We're going out for supper," Derek said.

"We are?" Penelope challenged.

"My treat," he said firmly.

"But tonight's burrito night," Emma protested.

"Burrito night gives me the farts," Declan sighed.

"I wanna go to the place that makes that yummy soup," Emma said. "The French onion soup with all the cheese and stuff."

"You just like stirring up trouble," Penelope accused Derek. She had a pretty short leash when it came to the kids and food. She didn't need him encouraging them.

"I'm a troublemaker," Derek agreed with a smirk. "But we can go wherever you want."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but had to admit that a night of relaxation did sound nice. She hadn't had a night off in months. Not that it would really be a night off, but –

"Let's go to the diner," Penelope suggested. "That way, Emma can have her soup and Declan can get the ribs and you can have that runny egg thing you like. And I can have pancakes."

"Sounds good to me," Derek agreed.

"What about Mr. Rossi?" Emma asked. "Is he going to come with us?"

"Not tonight," Penelope said. "He needs a break from us."

Emma opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again when she thought better of it.

"Besides," Penelope added, "your grandpa is getting old and needs a night off once in a while."

Emma's eyes widened. "Oh. OH MY GOSH, MOM. Mr. Rossi is our grandpa?" she gasped.

"You should call him Grandpa Dave instead of Mr. Rossi," Penelope said with a smile. "He'll like that. You, too, Declan."

Declan smiled and nodded, still not saying much. She worried about him sometimes because he was too quiet – but his therapist kept congratulating her on how well-adjusted he was to his new family, considering his prior situation and everything he'd been through. It was a small victory, but she wanted him to be himself and be happy and stop hiding behind that shield of his.

"And you can call me Derek instead of Mr. Morgan," Derek spoke up. "Seriously, kiddo, you make me feel old."

"You are old," Emma shot back.

Penelope laughed. "Are you sure you want to do this, handsome?" She meant far more than just taking them out to dinner, and she hoped he understood that.

Derek paused, then smiled and nodded. "Absolutely."

Her lingering worry began to dissipate a little bit more. He really did sound like he was committed to this; the only problem was that he had sounded that way before, and then he'd up and left.

She had to have faith in him.


	12. Chapter 12

I still don't own anything but the most awesome nail polishes in my medicine cabinet.

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><p>Part twelve:<p>

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><p>January 12, 2012<br>11:47PM EDT

_She felt the tip of the knife caressing her wrist, the bite becoming palpable as it cut through layers of flesh and nerves, her scream held in check by sheer force of will. Chloe Donaghy laughed maliciously and taunted her with a whisper of, "I don't see what Ian could possibly find fuckable in you. You have no spunk. You're weak. And he chains you to his bed – to keep you there? Why?"_

_Penelope's hand tingled as blood trickled down her fingers. "Fuck you," she exhaled. Chloe knocked her in the side of the head with the butt of the knife, then went back to hacking into her target's arm._

_Penelope would fight back if she wasn't shackled to the headboard. Ian had casually left her handcuffed saying she needed to be punished for denying him for two days when she'd been ill. Chloe had seen a chance to torture her, to cement her place as next in line for Ian's bed._

_Chloe's face twisted into a grimacing mask and –_

Penelope flew awake, her arms flailing wildly and a soul-wrenching scream dragged itself from the darkest depths of her being. She was off the bed in a heartbeat, standing in the middle of the room in the dark, shaking and sobbing, unable to shake the memories away. Her hand was still tingling and she knew if she looked at it, there would be no blood, no knife wounds, just faint scars and pulsing veins; but that didn't make her feel any better. Her heart was pounding and she was on the edge of completely losing her shit.

She felt Derek behind her and couldn't help it – she was still trapped in the middle of the panic attack, and she fought back. "GET OFF ME!" Penelope screamed, lashing out when he tried to embrace her. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" She knew that struggling and hitting him was wrong, but she couldn't stop the instinctual motions. He managed to somehow hold her wrists, but that just made it all that much worse. She was reliving hell and couldn't stop it. "NO!" she screamed, finally snapping the thread of delusion and memory, going limp and falling against him.

Her heart was still thundering in her chest, her wrists ached and burned from the way he was holding her, and she was okay, but she couldn't calm down. Chloe was dead and gone, but she still haunted her. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair. Penelope finally opened her eyes, taking in that he'd turned on the light and that they were standing stark fucking naked in the middle of her bedroom – which looked like a hurricane had been let loose.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she couldn't articulate words, just moan miserably and whimper as she tried to pull out of his grip. But he held her gently, whispering, "Mama, Baby Girl – Penelope, stop. It's okay, baby. It's okay. I promise, baby, you're okay – it's safe here."

He had a bruise forming on his cheek, near his eye, and she knew that she'd done that to him in her panic. This was the worst attack she'd had since Emma had been a baby. It just seemed so real and she couldn't hold it back or stop her fight or flight response. She was still trying like hell to slow her frantic heartbeat and failing miserably.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry," she choked out past the cottony feeling in her mouth. "Derek, I'm so – I didn't mean –"

"No, no, Mama, stop," he insisted. "Stop and listen to me. You're okay: you're safe. I love you. Take a deep breath and try to calm down, baby."

"I hurt you –"

"Penelope," he said, grabbing her attention completely. "You had a hell of a nightmare. It's okay. I shouldn't have tried to hold you till you were awake. It's my fault, so stop blaming yourself already."

Her voice hitched in her throat when she whispered, "It wasn't a nightmare. It was a memory." She felt him release his hold on her wrists and she fell forward into his embrace, needing him more than she could communicate. "I'm so sorry – you didn't need to see –"

"Sweetheart," Derek murmured, "we can't control what hurts us."

His words struck home with all the force of Chloe's knife. She winced and held him tighter, trying for all the world to crawl into his skin with him. "I was tortured once," she whispered, "and sexually violat- raped. I was raped by Chloe Donaghy at knifepoint while Ian Doyle watched. It was happening all over again and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't make it stop, Derek. I didn't mean to hurt you. I – I never wanted you to see this. But the nightmares never go away."

"No," Derek whispered, "they don't. They won't ever go away, baby, but –"

"I never told anyone because I just wanted to forget it happened," Penelope whimpered, burying her face in his chest, feeling his heart beating strongly beneath her. It made her feel safer. "Because it was my fault and nothing was going to retroactively change that."

"Penelope, you don't have to explain anything to me," he said very softly, his voice aching with barely suppressed pain. "I understand so much more than you know. I was abused when I was a kid, by someone I trusted and respected. You don't have to tell me how you feel right now because I know exactly what's going on in your head. Even if it wasn't your fault, you'll always believe it was because no one else knows what happened. I'm sorry, so sorry, that this happened to you – but I'm glad that you trust me enough to tell me."

"I was so sick when I was first pregnant with Emma," Penelope whispered, the explanation feeling good as it rushed from her lips. "And Ian wasn't happy that I was sick and couldn't be his fuck doll, so he sent Chloe in to remind me that I was very much replaceable. It was my punishment for not being ready, willing, and able – and when he bandaged me up after and took such care to make sure that I was compliant to his wishes, he made me take a pregnancy test. He knew, Derek. But he died thinking I'd killed his child – I would never. Emma is everything to me. Declan is everything to me, and he's not even mine – he's Chloe's, but I'd never hold that against him. I just – I want the memories to go away and leave me alone. I want to sleep and not worry about waking up and hurting myself or someone else because I'm scared to death it will happen."

She was raw, bleeding; she'd never let anyone near her dark secrets. She put up a warm, happy, jovial front and festered in private behind the façade. But now she'd opened up the biggest can of worms she ever could have, and she'd really appreciate it if he didn't run away screaming into the night. This was his real test.

"Baby Girl, it will get better," he whispered into her hair, holding her just as close as she was holding him. "I promise. I swear with every bit of my soul that it will be okay. I'm not going anywhere, Mama. I'm not going to let you fight this alone." He paused for a long moment, then said, "Know why I was a player for so long, Baby Girl? Because I couldn't let anyone get behind my walls and love me. Because I felt so guilty for what happened to me. So I didn't let anyone have a chance: until Emily. She broke those walls right down and then you came along and… You're my savior, Penelope Garcia. You are the only person I've loved to the point of giving everything up just to have you in my life. I won't let you do this alone, baby."

She felt the warm truth of his words wash over her like a healing benediction. "I love you," she murmured, rising onto her tiptoes to kiss him. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry I was such a –"

"Shh," she whispered. "I forgive you. And the answer to the question you asked me in October is yes – if you still want me and my kids and our baggage."

He picked her up off the ground and swung her around, smiling hugely. "Mama, you just made me the happiest man on earth!"

"But this doesn't mean that I like you or anything," she chuckled between hungry kisses.

"Of course not," he muttered.

"It means I love you," she breathed as he carried her back to bed.

* * *

><p>January 13, 2012<p>

Penelope was finishing a report for Beta Team when she heard someone come into her office. "Hey, give me a second and I'll be right with you," she commented, not even turning around. She finished typing and sending the report, then swung the swivel chair around, a little surprised when her silent visitor was Emily Prentiss.

Emily was never quiet.

"We need to talk," Emily said, closing the door.

"Can't it wait till Monday?" Penelope asked, feeling the blood drain from her face. Her heart raced and she felt a little dizzy. She'd have to talk to her psychiatrist about the amount of anxiety she was feeling lately. It wasn't okay for the baby.

"Nope," Emily said, pulling up the spare chair and sitting down in front of Penelope. "It's time for some girl talk, one on one. Serious girl talk. Because we both deserve explanations. And the truth."

"Okay," Penelope said warily.

"Baby Girl, I'm not mad," Emily said. "Seriously – I'm not. You're the closest thing to a sister I have. I'm not going to be a dumbass and lose you over something like a stupid boy."

"Derek isn't a stupid boy," Penelope said.

"Yeah, he kind of is," Emily said. "Maybe even more than kind of. He's been calling me 'Baby Girl' and 'Goddess' ever since we got back together, and that's not me. There's no way that's me: he's never called me anything but Emily or maybe Em. So, 'fess up, Pen: when and how and –"

Penelope sighed and got up to adjust the pillow she had stuffed under her butt on the seat. "Well…"

"Oh, don't 'well' me," Emily scoffed.

"I ignored what you told me about staying put," Penelope admitted. "And I came up for the funeral. I was accosted by… him… at the cemetery, and got stabbed."

"What?" Emily asked, eyes widening in panic. "Are you fucking kidding me? You didn't – you didn't tell me any of this."

"Point being," Penelope interrupted, "that I was in the hospital for a couple of days, and Derek sat with me the first night. He threatened to duct tape me to the bed, then read to me and watched movies with me. And… I kind of fell in love with him when he started doing a pretty good Bogie imitation."

Emily's panic receded to a smile. "You're okay, though –"

"Oh, I'm fine," Penelope dismissed. "And Doyle's dead, so – maybe better than fine. JJ shot him. I kind of owe her my life, but she's still holding me at arm's length, so I don't know how to repay her."

"Let her baby-sit once in a while?" Emily suggested.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I can see that going over so well," she muttered, absently rubbing her belly. Brielle was turning somersaults and kept landing punches to her kidneys. "Anyway, I quit Alphabet Soup and came to the FBI in the hope of doing something more important for people. The big picture was too big, and I just wanted a little corner of it." She smiled at Emily. "And he was just kind of… here… and tall, dark, gorgeous…"

"Incredibly," Emily agreed.

"And I got a little… drunk."

Emily winced. "How little?"

"Oh, Dad pretty much let me drink two bottles of wine," Penelope said with a sigh. "And the next thing I know, I'm waking up in my bed with Derek Morgan. And it just went from there. He asked me to marry him, Em, while you were in the hospital. I told him you were alive and he just – he ran away and turned into a totally different person."

Emily held a hand up. "Yesterday, he looked so broken after you left. I took him to lunch and we talked – and I gave him back the ring. Because it wasn't fair to get between you, and if you'd fucking told me that you were in love with him, I wouldn't have –"

Penelope sighed. "He was yours, Emily."

"Was being the operative word," Emily pointed out. "So you'd better be good to him and not break his heart, or I'll steal him back."

Penelope smiled slightly and held out her left hand. "I'm trying," she murmured.

Emily squealed and grabbed her friend's hand, inspecting the ring. "Wow –" She looked at Penelope with a sad smile. "He went to all this trouble to get you something beautiful, but all I got was a diamond solitaire. He really does love you."

"I'm sorry I –"

"No, no, don't you dare apologize for doing something that makes you happy," Emily said firmly. "You were miserable the entire time you were in Cuba, and now you're going to be happy if it kills the rest of us making it happen. Got it? You found your dad and your Prince Charming, and you've got a wonderful family, and awesome kids, and – all you need is Clooney to make it a nauseating picture of perfect suburbia."

Penelope laughed and sighed when Brielle kicked her bladder. "This kid is going to kill me," she muttered. "All she does during the day is kick parts of me that don't need a beatdown, and then she goes postal at night."

"Sounds painful," Emily replied, cringing. "Maybe I should stick with being the crazy aunt – not sure I could deal with actually having my own kids, despite being up the spout when I was a teenager." She paused and said, "I'm thinking about requesting a transfer. Or going back to the CIA."

"Oh, no, no you don't," Penelope cried. "You are not just going to run away. I need you to be here and be that crazy aunt – and my sister. Please, don't think that Derek is going to make a fuss – or me. I'm not. Emily, please stay."

"I said I was thinking about it, dipshit," Emily said. "Not that I was actually going to do it." She sighed. "It's just – the job is killing me slowly."

"Me, too," Penelope said. "Kevin Lynch keeps making fun of me down in the tech pool because I get sick when I see disemboweled bodies. But it's mostly Brielle's fault."

Emily smacked her fist into her hand. "I'm going to go downstairs and teach Kevin Lynch a lesson about picking on girls," she muttered. "And I'm not nice – I fight like a girl."

"You sound like Dad, now," Penelope sighed. "He's threatened to shoot Derek, he wants to beat the crap out of Hotch for making me run back and forth between here and NCIS HQ one day for case notes, and he's not exactly happy with you, either."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Because I'll show him a few things –"

"Emily, don't shoot my father for being slightly overprotective," Penelope said, rolling her eyes. "I still don't think he gets that I really can take care of myself. Come to think of it, I don't think Derek does, either."

"You shot Chloe Donaghy," Emily pointed out. "Bullet in the brainpan, squish!"

Penelope wrinkled her nose. "Could you please be a little more delicate?"

"Hey, the bitch had it coming to her," Emily said, shrugging. "They're going to return me to active duty as soon as the physical therapist clears me, thank god – of course, she shot me in the knee, which takes forever to heal."

Penelope chuckled. "Yeah, well, it's been fun watching you shuffle around."

"Every day, I'm shufflin'," Emily teased, winking.

"Hey, c'mere," Penelope said. "This is probably the only time you're going to get to do this, because if you just randomly touch my belly, I will fucking shoot you," she said firmly, guiding Emily's hand to where Brielle was kicking like a lunatic.

Emily's eyes widened and she smiled. "Have you guys talked about baby names yet or –"

"She has a name," Penelope said with a smile, "and Derek gets no say in it. Her name is Brielle."

Emily's smile grew. "That's beautiful," she said. "And what does he say about that?"

"He's on Team Peanut with Dad," Penelope sighed, rolling her eyes with a chuckle. "Boys are dumb."

"Let's throw rocks at them," Emily replied, giggling and pulling her hand away before Penelope got it in her head to shoot her.

"Ah, no," Penelope sighed. "I already wounded Derek enough."

"Yeah, I was going to ask about that bruise –"

"I had a nightmare and lost my shit," Penelope glossed over it. "No big deal. He's okay."

"So, are you guys looking for a new place, then?"

"No."

"But you're living in the guest house at Rossi's –"

"It's my home," Penelope said simply.

"Yes, but –"

"I don't expect you to understand," Penelope sighed. "But I'm already starting to nest and get things ready for Brielle's arrival. I can't think about moving now."

"Okay, then," Emily said. "Hey, you do know Derek's going to the airport in a couple hours to pick his mom up, right?"

Penelope's eyes widened. "NO!" she gasped.

"I told you she was coming down for the weekend –"

"Oh my god, she's going to expect to see you and she's going to get me instead and oh my god – my nails are chipped and my roots need touching up and –"

Emily started laughing. "And your kids are rowdy?" she teased. "Seriously, Fran isn't a monster, Pen. She's really nice."

"I didn't expect to meet Derek's mom," Penelope admitted, that all-too-familiar feeling of anxiety beginning to creep in again. "I didn't expect to be engaged or – yesterday, I was just –"

"I know," Emily assured her. "But it's perfectly okay to be nervous."

"My house is a disaster – oh, god, Emily, what am I going to do?"

"Stop panicking?" Emily commented dryly.

That comment made Penelope stop and purse her lips in disapproval. Emily winked and started laughing, which made Penelope pout even more.

There was a knock on the door, then Derek poked his head in. "Baby Girl, it's time for lunch," he said. "Are we still going out or –"

Penelope got up in a flash and grabbed her coat, leaving Emily in her wake with little more than a call of, "See ya, Sugar Tits – I've got a hot date."


	13. Chapter 13

I still don't own anything but the monkeys on my back. Just a head's up: I will be extremely busy for the US Thanksgiving week with my day job (major retail), and my night job (my upstart smart ass candle company), so this might be the last chapter for a while. ;)

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><p>Part thirteen:<p>

* * *

><p>January 13, 2012<br>6:53 PM EDT

"MOOOOOM!" Declan yelled from the living room. "Tell them they can't use items like that! It's no fair!"

Penelope came out of her bedroom and leaned over the railing. "Dad, what did you do NOW?" she shouted.

"I used my item, fair and square!" Rossi yelled back.

"Do I need to say you guys can't play Mario Kart anymore?" Penelope threatened.

"No, no, Kitten, I'll behave," he assured her.

"You'd better – can you pause it and check on the lasagna? I'm going to be a few more minutes."

"No problem," Rossi called back. "Did you open the bottle of wine already?"

"Yes – and the sausages are cooked and the garlic bread is in the oven," Penelope said. "Thank you."

"And the salad?"

"Pour out of the bag, toss in cheese and olives and –"

"Okay," Rossi yelled from the kitchen.

Penelope went back into her bedroom and tried to figure out what she was going to wear. Derek and his mother would be there any minute and she was still throwing clothes around. A small tornado had formed in her room, and nothing fit. Most of her maternity clothes were too big, still, and almost all of her regular clothes were awkwardly tight. Brielle needed to either hurry up and grow or stop growing altogether – it was driving her mother crazy being somewhere inbetween.

She finally, FINALLY, stumbled on a wrap dress she'd bought and never worn because it was a full size too big. It was blue and green paisley with hints of pink, and it actually fit! There was a god, and he was damn good. She threw on a pink cardigan and slipped into her green zombie flats, determined that she'd get downstairs before her guests got there.

She was all but hustling down the stairs when she slipped. Fortunately, she was only three stairs from the bottom, and even more fortunately, Derek was waiting at the bottom of the stairs to catch her. "Oh shit –"

"Get your feet back underneath you," Derek scolded. "You okay?"

She nodded, still clinging to him. "That could have been really, really bad," she choked out.

"Yeah, so stop running on the stairs with scissors, Mama," he grunted.

She laughed and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Hey, you," she murmured.

"Yeah, you're okay," he said, rolling his eyes and releasing her from his tight embrace. "How's my Peanut?"

"Taking a nap," Penelope said softly, glancing past him to take in the red-haired woman who was taking off her hat and coat. "Here, let me get that, Mrs. Morgan," she said, reaching for the coat.

Derek slapped Penelope's hands away. "I can put our coats in the closet, silly girl," he scolded. "You go sit down and relax."

"I need to finish dinner," Penelope said, retreating to the kitchen.

"Kitten, I'm perfectly capable of determining at what point to get things out from under the broiler – you don't need to check up on me," Rossi said as soon as she took up a position at the counter. "Shouldn't you be entertaining your guests?"

"No," she sighed, "I should be making the salad." She ripped open a bag of spring greens and poured it into a bowl. "I'm scared, Dad. What if she hates me? What if I'm not good enough?"

"Kitten, if anyone ever says you're not good enough, I will punch them in the face," Rossi said, pulling the lasagna out of the oven. "Because that is fucking bullshit."

"Daddy, you don't have to be a caveman," Penelope said with a scowl on her lips. "I can take care of myself."

"Fran Morgan is a good woman," Rossi said. "But if she messes with my little girl, she's gonna –"

"Stop it," Penelope muttered, adding olives, mushrooms and capers to the salad. "I'm just worried about stupid things. I'll be okay." She shredded some parmesan onto the salad and carried it to the table. "You gonna get the bread out of the oven before it burns?" she asked when she returned.

Rossi got the bread out of the oven, apparently fearing the wrath of the pregnant woman.

Penelope strode from the kitchen to the living room. "Declan, Emma, dinner's ready. Declan, can you find out what everyone wants to drink and get the drinks ready? Emma, can you please set the table?" she asked, suddenly taking in that Derek, Fran, and both of her kids were playing Mario Kart and laughing and carrying on. "Or… you can finish the race."

"Mama, I love Mrs. Morgan," Emma exclaimed enthusiastically.

They finished the race and Declan was all smiles as the winner – for once. "What do you want to drink?" he asked Derek and his mother. "I think we have milk, juice, water –"

"I want juice," Emma called over her shoulder as she skipped past her mother and into the kitchen.

"Emma, what did I tell you about skipping and running in the house?" Penelope asked.

Emma popped her head out of the kitchen and stuck her tongue out.

Declan stopped in front of her and said, "What do you want to drink, Mom?"

"Water, please," Penelope said. "Thank you, kiddo."

"No prob," Declan replied with a smile, heading to the kitchen.

Derek patted the seat next to him on the loveseat. "Come sit down, Goddess," he instructed, "and meet my Momma." Penelope nodded and flopped onto the loveseat, snuggling up to him. "Momma," he said, "this is Penelope Garcia. My Baby Girl. Goddess, this is my Momma, Fran."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Morgan," Penelope said. "Welcome to my home – and you've already met my kids."

"I didn't get their names, but I figured someone would fill me in eventually," Fran said with a chuckle.

"Emma and Declan," Derek said. He reached down and put his hand on her belly. "And this is Peanut. She's not ready to meet her grandma yet, though."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Am I going to have to break your hand? Stop doing that." She huffed a little. "And her name is not Peanut. You and Dad need to get over that: her name is Brielle."

"Peanut is cuter," Derek said.

Rossi came into the room and smiled. "Fran, it's good to see you again," he said, coming over and hugging her. "How have you been?"

"Rossi, man, don't flirt with my mom," Derek pleaded.

"I'm not flirting," Rossi replied testily. "That would be awkward, considering we're going to be in-laws soon."

"What?" Fran said.

"You mean these knuckleheads haven't told you?" Rossi asked.

Derek sighed. "Momma, we're engaged."

"I thought you were engaged to that nice Emily Prentiss girl –"

Penelope's smile faded. Derek held her hand tighter. "Momma, Emily and I decided not to continue pursuing our relationship because I fell ass over feet for Penelope," he said firmly. "But we've had a few hitches along the way – like Peanut not being expected."

Penelope snorted indelicately. "Brielle may not have been expected, but she's no less wanted for showing up to the party," she commented wryly.

Fran looked back and forth between them, then said, "Please don't take this the wrong way, but – are you sure this is your child, Derek?"

"100%," Derek replied. "I'm pretty sure I can tell you when, too."

Penelope blushed. "Thank you, handsome, but let's not go into details – Dad looks like he's going to hit you now."

"I'm hungry," Emma said, interrupting them.

"Me, too," Penelope agreed, getting up with a little help from Derek. "Just you wait till you see what's for dessert," she teased, giving him a quick kiss. "You'll die a happy man."

"Mama, I gotta go home, remember?" he teased.

She laughed and held his hand as they wandered to the table. "Okay, there should be plenty for everyone," she said, "so feel free to take whatever you want. I can always make more bread if we need it."

"It smells delicious," Fran commented.

"Emma, you set too many spots," Derek said.

"Nuh-uh – Auntie Emily isn't here yet," Emma said defensively. "She's late."

Pretty much on cue, the doorbell chimed. "I've got it," Penelope said, gesturing for everyone to sit and start eating. She headed to the front door and opened it. "Emma's pissed that you're late," she said warningly. "And I'm not sure what Momma Morgan thinks of me. She keeps looking at me funny."

Emily chuckled. "Baby Girl, you think everyone is looking at you funny. Stop being so paranoid. What's for eats?" she asked as she took off her leather jacket.

"Lasagna, salad, garlic bread – and pineapple blueberry trifle for dessert."

"You just got home like an hour and a half ago," Emily said, jaw dropping in disbelief. "How the hell did you manage to cook all of that?"

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "Practice," she commented dryly.

"No, seriously –"

"It's not that difficult," Penelope said. "C'mon – Brielle is getting hungry again. What do you want to drink? I have water, about ten kinds of juice, and Dad brought three bottles of wine."

"Oh, I think I'd like that peach nectar you keep in overwhelming supply," Emily said. "And a glass of pinot noir."

"Good choices," Penelope said with a smile. "Go ahead and make yourself at home – Emma set a place for you between her and Dad." She finished hanging Emily's jacket and shooed her into the dining room before ducking into the kitchen.

When she came back out with Emily's drinks, everyone had served up their dinner. Rossi said, "Kitten, this lasagna is delicious, but that's not tomato sauce."

"Nope," Penelope replied cheerfully, setting down Emily's drinks. "You know I can't eat tomatoes right now because they give me awful heartburn. It's just roasted red pepper sauce. And some of the 'noodles' are eggplant slices."

"I thought it tasted distinctly like vegetables," Derek grumbled.

"Hey, you shut it," she said, serving up her food and sitting down. "I made you carnivores sausages to make up for the veggies." She gestured at him with a fork. "You're going to have to learn to love your vegetarian meals, Derek, because even though I'm craving the biggest possible juicy rare steak in the worst way, I'm sticking to the path of better nutrition."

"I'll take you out for that steak," he promised.

"God, don't even tempt me," Penelope sighed. "It's bad enough I can't give up coffee and chocolate, according to the doctor –"

"You shouldn't be drinking coffee," Fran spoke up.

"I know, but I die halfway through the day if I don't," Penelope said with a frown. "But at least I'm not anemic for the time being – if I get there, though, there will be a lot more pills in my future."

"Or you could just eat a steak," Emily commented.

Penelope pointed her fork at Emily. "You're a troublemaker," she said firmly.

"Yeah, so? Steak is good," Emily replied. "So's this bread –"

"Mom?" Declan said.

"Yeah?"

"Can I have a sausage?"

Rossi looked at her. "Have you been denying that boy his meat again, girl?" he demanded.

"Yes," Penelope told Declan, and then told her father, "no. I make some for him every night. Don't start lecturing me about taking care of my children." She took a bite of salad and chewed thoughtfully, then said, "Besides, Dad, I think you sneak enough candy into the house for your opinion on my cooking to be negated."

"You're half-Italian," Rossi retorted. "You should learn to cook like it – and none of this crazy vegetarian stuff. Meat and potatoes and cheese."

"Rossi, lay off," Emily said. "She's been vegetarian as long as I've known her, aside from a couple of slip ups where she gnawed on the cow when she was pregnant with Emma."

"Ew, Mama," Emma said, making a face.

"Yeah, ew," Penelope agreed, making the same face back at her daughter.

Well, dinnertime was nothing if not interesting.

"So, when are you two planning on getting married?" Fran asked when they were just about finished eating the bulk of the food.

"Who's getting married?" Emma and Declan asked almost simultaneously.

"Your mom and Derek," Emily said with a smile.

"What?" the kids chorused.

"Yeah," Derek said.

Penelope didn't say a word, just looked helplessly around the table. She knew it was silly, but she still had the habit of always looking for an out when she was uncomfortable with the situation.

"Momma, we've been engaged a grand total of two days," Derek said calmly. "Let us figure it out. We'll get back to you. Besides, you and Rossi are getting the grandbaby you both so desperately want, so can you both please chill out and let us figure things out for ourselves?"

"I don't want a church wedding," Penelope finally spoke up, very quietly, feeling for all the world like her opinion on the matter was going to be shot down. "I just… I just want to be married and get back to life. I don't need a fancy dress – that I'm going to look like a whale in – or a big party with people I don't know telling me how lucky I am to be so fat and ugly and be getting the hot guy." She threw her napkin down on the table and got up, all but running to the kitchen before anyone could see her cry.

Her hormones were slowly killing her. If she wasn't exhausted, she was horny. If she wasn't horny, she was crying. Or all three at once.

She pulled the trifle out of the fridge and began dishing it up. It smelled divine, but even inasmuch as it did, there was something about it that was off to her. She put the bowls on a serving platter and was just about to add whipped cream when Emily came in. "Let me help," her friend said. "You know you're not fat or ugly, right?"

"Maybe not, but compared to Derek, anyone would be a frump," Penelope sighed. "I mean, look at me – I'm not special. I try to look like I am, but I'm just like every other artificial blonde on the planet, just with a lot more ass and sass."

"And class," Emily threw in with a smile.

"Oh, don't try to placate me," Penelope said with a frown. "I'm not what Fran was expecting. She was expecting you: you're gorgeous and skinny and –"

"Melodramatic, angsty, violent, and more than slightly anti-social," Emily finished for her. "You, on the other hand…"

"Don't stand here and tell me that I'm perfect, because I'm not," Penelope whispered. "I'm carrying so much baggage, I don't know how I keep from falling over."

"Maybe you should," Emily said. "Fall over, I mean. Because Derek would be right there to catch you. It's okay. For the record, Baby Girl, you are… amazing. Your heart is so open and full of love. You are loyal, devoted, and sensible. You are a wonderful mother, and your smile lights up a room. You've always been the best; and I hope to hell that you stop hurting yourself soon. Derek loves you because you are amazing, Penelope. And because he's in complete awe of you."

Penelope grunted and shaved chocolate on top of all the whipped cream. "Whatever," she muttered, reaching for the bottle of Sriracha pepper sauce. She liberally dosed one of the bowls with the hot sauce and said, "Okay, that one is mine – don't give it to anyone else."

"Oh my god, that's fucking DISGUSTING," Emily said, her voice rising to a shout. "Are you actually going to EAT THAT?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Penelope sighed testily. "And carry the platter out for me, please? I'm not supposed to be lifting more than ten pounds and that platter probably weighs eight on its own."

"Seriously, are you going to eat that?" Emily asked as they headed back into the dining room.

"Yes, I'm going to eat it – all of it," Penelope said firmly. "And I might go back for seconds."

"That's so nasty," Emily said, wrinkling her nose. She passed out the other bowls and almost threw Penelope's at her.

"What is?" Fran and Rossi asked.

Derek looked at his fiancee's dessert and looked at his mother helplessly. "Mom, it's better not to ask," he said.

"She put Sriracha on hers," Emily said. "Hot pepper sauce. On a trifle. With whipped cream and chocolate."

"Women have strange cravings during pregnancy," Fran said. "I wanted anchovies and deviled ham every day I was pregnant with Desiree."

"Shit, I remember that," Derek said, turning greenish around the gills.

"It's perfectly normal," Penelope said with a frown. "And it's really not bad. I've been eating Sriracha with everything lately. Maybe I should get a gallon bottle?"

"Baby Girl, are you gonna eat dessert or what?" Derek asked, reaching below the table to hold her hand. He fiddled with her ring and smiled. "And, yes, I'm going to die a happy man – it's delicious."

"It is," Rossi agreed.

"Hey," Penelope said, looking over at her kids. "You two are awfully quiet."

"Are you really going to marry Derek?" Declan asked.

Penelope nodded. "Yes," she said firmly. "Is there any reason I shouldn't?"

Declan's eyes filled with frustrated tears. "What about me?" he asked. "I'm not really your kid, so what happens to me?" He got up and ran out of the room.

"Way to go, Mama," Emma said snidely, getting up and following him.

"Pen, I'll go talk to him," Emily said, starting to get up.

"No," Fran said, "I'll go talk to them. You all stay here and enjoy dessert."

Penelope pushed her bowl away. "I can't eat anything now," she said miserably. "My son thinks he's not wanted and all I've done for months is my fucking level best to prove to him that I love him just as much as I love Emma."

"Penelope," Derek said softly, but she pushed him away, too.

"I'll go talk to them," Fran repeated, leaving the room.

"Kitten, the kid still isn't sure that all of this is gonna up and disappear on him," Rossi tried to reason. "I'm pretty sure he's just scared about losing his family and feels threatened by Derek suddenly muscling in on things."

"I'm not muscling in on anything," Derek muttered.

"You're going to have to prove to both of those kids that you're not just going to be a dad to Brielle," Emily said forcefully. "You're going to have to walk them through every step of everything, and then let them decide whether or not it's okay. Declan had a father. He killed people and treated everyone around him like shit, except Declan. But he knew; he could sense what was going on behind closed doors. You have to prove to him that you are not like his father, that you actually love him."

"I barely know him," Derek said, his voice low but earnest, "but I already know that he's going to be one of the most important people in my life. He's going to be my son, just like Emma and Brielle are going to be my girls. Just like Penelope is going to be mine. And I'm going to do my best to make sure that they all know just how important they are."

Penelope was wiping tears from her cheeks. She hadn't meant to cry, but the tears just kind of slipped out and rolled down her face without her consent. Stupid hormones. "I know how important we are to you," she whispered.

"Hey, Mama, stop that," Derek said, gently grasping her chin and turning her to face him. "No more tears, baby." He plucked her glasses off her nose and used his napkin to dab at her face. "Sweetheart –" When the runaway tears didn't stop, he kissed her ever so softly on the lips. "Baby Girl, I've got Momma's stuff in the trunk of the car. Maybe we should stay tonight?"

"I think that would be a good idea," Rossi said.

"Definitely," Emily added firmly.

"I'll go put sheets on the futon in the office," Rossi said, abandoning the last of his dessert. "Emily, come with me?"

"Absolutely," Emily said, retreating with Rossi, trying to give them space.

"Mama, talk to me," Derek whispered.

"I'm – nothing about tonight is going well," Penelope whimpered. "I'm a terrible mother. I'm not what your mom was expecting – and she probably hates me as much as my kids do right now. My father Is pissed at me, and I don't know why, and I just feel so… so –"

"Overwhelmed?" Derek suggested. When she nodded, he smiled just a little. "Goddess, I think we're both in a little over our heads here. But we have each other, right?"

She nodded and threaded her fingers with his, loving how their hands fit together. Just like the rest of them. But that line of thought was replaced with more feelings of inadequacy. What if he decided the time to bail was now? Everyone had their breaking point.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked.

"I'm praying you don't decide to leave me," she whispered, her voice ragged with emotion. "I wouldn't blame you if you did. I'm a wreck. My kids are off the chain. You didn't have to sign on for this."

"I signed the dotted line, Penelope, and I'm not taking my name off," he declared. "Now, stop worrying so much. It can't be good for the baby." He kissed her and whispered, "I think I'm going to have to show you how dedicated I am to this cause. Maybe the kids would like it if Clooney came to live here?"

She blinked. "Derek, you can't leave your dog here –"

"I dunno," he teased, "but I think I want my dog to live with me at my house with my family."

"What?" she squeaked. "But, you have a house!"

"I'll rent it out to somebody. My point is that I need to be with you and the kids if we're going to make any of this work. So I'll start packing my stuff and moving it – as soon as you say it's okay."

"It's okay!" Penelope exclaimed, taken aback by the sheer amount of love and devotion he was exhibiting. Two days had made a complete about-face in his demeanor and she was glad of it: but it still worried her how over-solicitous and completely devoted he was. Like it was an act with something, guilt?, simmering below the surface.

She hated profilers, but she was getting better at reading what they didn't want read.

"But, seriously, Derek, I don't want to guilt you into anything you don't want to do," she said hastily. "If you don't want to move in with us, we can manage something –"

"Penelope, I don't want to wake up in the morning without you," he said simply, as if she had said something completely stupid. "Isn't that enough?"

"You've sacrificed enough already," she protested.

"It's not a sacrifice. It's making a choice and sticking to it."

"Because I'm pregnant."

He sighed. Something played out on his face, but he held it back. That didn't bode well for her. Clearly he was on the train to rethinking everything now, and she'd pushed him right onto the platform.

She got up, throwing her napkin at him. Without another word, she all but stormed out of the room and upstairs, brushing past Emily as she went.

"Derek, what did you do NOW?" Emily asked.

The last thing Penelope heard before she slammed the door was Emily and Derek tearing into each other with a frightening voracity. She didn't care. She flung herself onto the bed, curling tightly in the fetal position, holding Brielle safe from everything, including her tormented thoughts. A tiny foot pressed against her arm and despite herself, she smiled.

The fighting downstairs finally tapered off; the muffled, muddled argument stopped beneath her. She closed her eyes and willed herself to go back to the person who exuded confidence, who wasn't broken. But it had been so long since she'd been able to do that, she didn't know how anymore. Ian Doyle had robbed her of so much more than she'd realized.

Worse yet, she'd stolen from herself every day without even realizing it.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"No," Penelope said firmly, though her voice trembled on the word. She needed time alone. Everything was so fresh, so new, so – confusing.

Five minutes later, a different knock.

"NO!" This time, the word was forceful and borderline angry.

Ten minutes later, she heard the front door closing beneath her. But that didn't stop a third knock from landing on her bedroom door.

She got up with a bit of a struggle, then swung the door open. "What part of no do you people not understand?" Penelope demanded of a worried looking Fran. "Oh – oh god, I didn't mean –"

"Emily and Agent Rossi left," Fran said. "I thought you'd like to know that we're having a family meeting in a few minutes. If you don't want to be there, it's okay, but it's not fair to your kids to just throw a tantrum and walk away."

"A family meeting?" Penelope said. "We've never had one of those before."

"In my house, they're a tradition," Fran said with a small smile. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you aren't good enough for my son. I was just surprised. He didn't tell me that he and Emily had broken it off, or that he was engaged to a beautiful woman with two kids under her belt and one on the way. He didn't tell me anything about you, just kind of dumped me into the thick of it. Which is not Derek, normally – he's discombobulated. You've addled my son's wits, and I say it's about fucking time someone did."

Penelope stared at her, her jaw dropping. Fran hesitantly spread her arms and pulled her into a hug.

"I know that it's going to be tough for a while," Fran said, "and that it seems like it's going to be chaos forever, but it's not. Things will settle down and go back to normal. Emma and Declan need reassuring that you're not forgetting them just because you're in love with Derek and because the baby is coming. Which is why I called the family meeting."

"Can I change clothes first?" Penelope asked.

"Of course," Fran promised. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Maybe," Penelope said. "Yes. Eventually."

"You, Emma, and I are going shopping tomorrow," Fran said firmly. "You need some girl time."

"Okay," Penelope agreed. Maybe she didn't need alone time? Maybe the bad thoughts would slow down if she was with people? Was she going mad? She knew she didn't feel normal anymore, but –

Oh, god. What if she was just like her mother?

Penelope suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Fran caught it, too, and hustled her into the bathroom. The older woman held Penelope's hair back and was reassuring and soothing even though Penelope managed to keep her stomach in check. Was this what having a real mother was like? She didn't even know.

"Are you all right?" Fran asked.

"False alarm," Penelope said. "Thank god." She waved her hand, trying to send Fran back downstairs. "I'll be okay –"

"Do you need help getting changed?" Fran asked.

"No, I'll be okay," Penelope murmured; her voice was finally steady again. "I'll be downstairs in a few minutes," she promised.

Fran left and Penelope stared at herself in the mirror. All she could see was her flaws. She wasn't strong enough. She loved too freely. She was too loyal. She held her hurts so close they became a shield to hide behind. She was fat and looked just like her mother. She was insignificant.

Everyone told her that her loyalty and her freely given love were her best qualities; but they only served to hurt her in the endgame.

Why would Derek want to love someone who couldn't love their own self?

She closed her eyes and left the room blindly, not opening her eyes again till the mirror was gone. Hormones. It was just her hormones wreaking havoc. She was not losing her mind.

She got into her pajamas and fluffy bunny slippers, feeling like a five year old lost in the world. She shuffled downstairs and took in the sight before her in the living room.

Declan and Emma were curled up with Fran on the couch, looking at photographs of Derek's family and listening to Fran's smiling commentary on the kids who would be their cousins and the women who would be their aunts. Derek threw in a few comments here and there, mostly funny ones, and Declan was smiling a little. Emma, on the other hand, was lapping it up like a stray kitten and a bowl of milk.

Derek saw her first, getting up smoothly and merely walking over to take her in his arms. "I love you," he whispered, just holding her.

Her arms came around him, wanting, needing his assurance. "I love you, too – I'm sorry I yelled," she whispered.

"You didn't," he said. "That scared me more than anything else, Mama. You were seriously pissed and you didn't raise your voice or anything. You just walked out."

She looked up at him. "You got a dose of your own medicine," she pointed out. "It sucks."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It sucks. A lot." He kissed her forehead. "No more fighting, okay?"

"Okay," she breathed.

"Ew, they're gonna kiss," Declan muttered.

Derek laughed and released his hold on her, opting instead to take her hand and squeeze it. "C'mon, let's get you comfy," he said.

"Easier said than done," she reminded him gently, smiling.

The family meeting was productive. The kids got to open up about their feelings about the sudden changes that were abruptly rocking their world, and the adults had no choice but to listen. And the adults got to explain a few things – within reason – to the kids. They came out on the other side stronger as a family, but still shaky as themselves.

But peace would come in time.


	14. Chapter 14

I still don't own anything but my sanity and with the Thanksgiving holiday, even that's wearing thin: so have some pr0n instead. :D (This is my stress relief. God help us all.)

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><p>Part fourteen:<p>

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><p>January 13, 2012<br>11:27 PM EDT

"You still awake, Baby Girl?" Derek whispered, his hand gently resting on her hip.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Not going to sleep any time soon."

"Why not?"

"I'm an insomniac by habit," she muttered. "And I'm off my meds because of the baby and everything is topsy-turvy and wrong." Penelope closed her eyes. She didn't like what she saw behind her eyelids, so she opened them again. "I had a terrible thought tonight. I started wondering if this was how my mother felt when she had episodes."

His hand moved, protectively resting on her belly now. She didn't mind, for once, because his hand was warm and strong and held her so very gently. "Mama," he whispered, "you can't think like that. But if you're having dark thoughts, you should tell someone."

"I have an appointment on Thursday with my psychiatrist," she sighed. "I'm way ahead of you, Hot Stuff. She knows more about my feelings than I do. It's okay. I just – I'm scared. And overwhelmed. And I want to stop worrying, but I can't."

"What are you worrying about right now?" he asked, shifting behind her and pulling her closer.

"What I'm going to wear tomorrow when we go shopping," she admitted.

"And that's keeping you awake?"

She huffed and smacked his arm. "Don't make fun of me. It's not rational, I get that, but I can't help it. And I'm worrying about you and Declan getting along."

"We'll get along fine," Derek assured her.

"And I'm worried about –"

"Should you be worrying so much?" he asked softly.

She sighed again. "Hot Stuff, I swear I can't help it."

He kissed her shoulder. "Maybe I should distract you," he commented. "Keep you from thinking too much."

"But then I'm thinking about you and worrying about you going out on a case and being a hero and not coming home," she admitted very quietly.

"Mama," Derek groaned, "you worry too damn much."

"I know," she said in her smallest voice. "Is your Mom mad about sleeping on the futon?"

"Why would she be?" Derek asked. "It's what you have at the moment."

"Yeah," Penelope said.

"Let me guess: you're worried about how she's sleeping, too?"

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, elbowing him. "Don't make fun of me."

"But you are, aren't you?"

"Yes, but –"

He pulled her top up a little and rested his warm hand on her belly, gently rubbing in small circles. "Stop it," he said firmly. "Enough is enough. Just stop thinking about anything that might upset you. Think about rainbows and kittens and how beautiful Peanut is going to be."

"I hope she has your smile," Penelope murmured, resting her hand atop his.

"Nah," he said, kissing the back of her neck. "She should have your smile and your gorgeous eyes, Baby Girl. And those little dimples –"

"I don't have dimples," Penelope protested, chuckling.

"Uh-huh," he muttered, pulling her tighter against him. "I missed cuddling with you."

"Oh really?" she teased. "You just want a pillow."

"If I wanted a pillow, I'd go to Target," he grumbled.

She giggled. "I thought men don't like to cuddle," she commented.

"I cuddle," he protested.

"Ah, but my exes didn't," Penelope said. "They were very wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am…"

"Ian Doyle doesn't count as an ex," Derek growled. "I should have shot him myself, but he was right in front of you and if I'd've –"

"Now who's worrying?" Penelope murmured. "If it makes you feel any better, Sugar, if I'd have met you before I went undercover, I wouldn't have slept with him. Not even for duty and honor and country."

"If we'd met in 2001, you'd just be another notch on my bedpost," he whispered.

She laughed. "Oh, but I'd be the one you'd be missing the rest of your life," she reminded him with a smile on her lips.

"Hell yeah," he agreed. "I almost lost you. I'm not letting go again."

"I probably wouldn't have had a boyfriend when you finally came to your senses," she said wryly. "Not too many men are okay with a woman with kids. Or they want the kids more than the mother. And, if by chance, you find a good one – they're usually gay." She sighed. "I didn't exactly ever have men beating down my door. Two boyfriends, then Ian Doyle, and a very, very, incredibly long dry spell. And you. I would've waited forever for you," she whispered. "And I probably would have hated myself the whole time because I let myself get spoiled for anyone else." She paused. "You aren't gay, are you?"

"Hell no!" he exclaimed forcefully. "I love women, Mama – and most especially you. You get under my skin like no one else and I swear to god, you're the most perfect woman I've ever met."

"Liar," she murmured. "I'm not perfect."

"To me you are," he whispered, letting his hand slide below the waistband of her lounge pants. Her breath hitched when he stilled, then continued lower. She bit back a moan when he found his target and began slowly tormenting her with the gentlest of touches. She rocked against his hand, desperate for more, arching her back, parting her legs just a little more, giving him more access to everything they both wanted. "Fuck, Baby Girl, you're so hot," he breathed against her shoulder. "And so very wet."

"Can't help it," she panted, grinding her teeth, trying to keep her moaning quiet.

"Are you fighting me?" he whispered teasingly, slipping a fingertip inside her.

"God," she exhaled, squirming, bucking against his hand in an effort to get more. "Fuck, Derek – fuck – son of a bitch, you asshole, fuck me – don't fucking tease me!"

He chuckled. "Really, Mama? Can't you stop being impatient for one minute –"

"I'm horny as hell," she whined, biting her lip and whimpering as he teased her even more.

"Yeah, which just means I should take my time."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't you dare."

"Every time we fuck, it's fast and I'd like to take it slowly for once –"

She huffed. "Yes, well –"

"Mama, do you think you're in competition with somebody?" he asked, abruptly pulling his hand out of her clothes. "You don't have to be better than anyone else. You just have to be you. That's the appeal, baby. You're all curves and scream sex kitten in every language on the planet."

"You've had all kinds of women," she accused, rolling over and poking him in the chest. "And I'm probably the only one that wasn't stick thin and drop dead gorgeous."

"Penelope –"

"So if I want to use sex as a weapon to hold you hostage with, you'd better believe I'm going to fuck you till you can't forget what it's like to be balls deep in a real woman," she hissed, poking him again.

"You have a filthy mouth," he accused, laughing.

"I give damn good phone," she retorted, reaching into his boxers and stroking him. "And even better hand jobs."

"Mama," he growled, "your dirty mouth got us into bed in the first place."

She paused and racked her brain, vaguely remembering the first time they'd been together. It was still hazy from the alcohol she'd consumed, but, yeah, she remembered saying something incredibly unrepeatable. And they'd barely made it inside before they all but jumped each other.

He just fucking sizzled. She… fizzled.

Damn it. She just wanted to feel him inside her, not debate whether or not they should have fast, explosive sex or slow, lazy sex. She didn't want intimacy at the moment: her need was physical and physiological. Not emotional.

But everything involving him was emotional – she was just deluding herself if she thought for a second that it wasn't. He made her heart ache and yearn and wish for all the things she'd told herself she couldn't ever have.

"Hey, baby, you still with me?" Derek whispered, bringing her back to earth. "Your mind wandered about a million miles away."

"Only half a million," she murmured, kissing him very softly, sensually on the lips. When he responded, she deepened the kiss, leading him onto a path of destruction and mayhem. Their kisses were dangerous: every kiss led to another, a deeper want, a need that neither could fight.

They lay like that, just kissing, for the longest time. How long, neither knew and neither cared: all they cared about was being allowed to explore this softer side of things. Penelope was tingling from head to toe; sparks of desire were settling all over her, igniting a beautiful, slow-burning fire of want that left her purring when his hand ran down her back and cupped her ass, bringing her as flush to him as she could be.

How did she get so lucky? Karma must be paying out her checks in one lump sum.

Derek's wandering hand slipped back into her pajama bottoms, and she chuckled against his lips. "Sugar," she purred, "this time, I hope you mean business."

"Absolutely. And your hand's been in my pants for god knows how long," he grumbled. "I'm thinking of the Ice Queen spitting nails when she gets wind that we're getting married."

"Whatever," Penelope muttered, kissing him into silence again. "I just want you. And I want to show you why you should keep me." Her hand slipped into his boxers again, teasing him as much as he was teasing her – one thing she knew was that he was easily distracted.

He growled and nipped at her neck where it met her shoulder. "Damn it, woman, I'm not taking you back to the fucking store – I lost the damn receipt," he hissed, involuntarily thrusting into her hand.

She laughed and said, "No refunds or exchanges, Hot Stuff – especially once you've branded me." Her smile abruptly faded, remembering the celtic knot scarred into the back of her hip. "You know, nevermind," she whispered. "You can exchange me for a newer model, but only after you've taken me around the track till my engine explodes."

"Never gonna happen," he groaned, working her pajama pants and underwear down her hips. "You're mine forever."

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," he intoned, staring deeply into her eyes. She saw everything she'd wanted to hide reflected back at her; it wasn't till that moment that she realized how fully he was committed to this, them, their future. It was a game-changing look.

"Then get your sexy ass out of those boxers," Penelope insisted with a chuckle, "and make me happy. Mama's in need of a little TLC."

He rolled his eyes and smiled, complying with her demand. "One of these days, Penelope, we're actually going to take our time –"

"I think we've taken enough time for one night," she replied, letting him tug her pajama top off over her head, exposing her completely to his hungry gaze. His hands caressed her breasts, stroked her abdomen, came to rest on her thighs. She loved the way he touched her; his touch was so full of tenderness and lust that it made her heart soar.

It also made her horny as hell, which, in her current hormone-addled condition was a lethal weapon in waiting. She went on the attack, all but pouncing on him, knocking him back to the bed with a thump of the springs and a squeak from the headboard. He looked up at her in surprise, but she was already straddling him and ready to ride. About all he could do was settle in for the trip: she was already off to the races and doing her damnedest to drag him along, kicking and screaming. Well, okay, screaming. She wanted to hear him make some NOISE, not just talk dirty.

She took him all in one stroke, feeling him swell even more inside her. Her nails dragged over his chest, his hands came up to grip her waist – or what was left of her waist – and he hissed in approval as she rocked her hips in a circle. "Fuck, Mama –"

"You like that, dirty boy?" Penelope growled, her nails raking down his perfect abs. She envied him his dedication to looking good and staying healthy. She just didn't care enough to stop her own self-indulgence: the world was too hard to make yourself hard to it. And he was her favorite indulgence. All six-foot-one-inch, hard-as-a-rock, goddamn-hot-as-hell, chocolatey goodness of Derek Morgan: her indulgence and hers alone.

She didn't wait for his answer, just started moving. His hands left her waist, one traveling to her breast, the other going between them on a hard stroke, roughly fingering her clit on the downward motion. She hissed and jerked like she'd been burned, but stopped to grind against his fingers. God, he played like a dirty, lecherous old man –

But she wouldn't have it any other way.

Her climax rose hard and fast, startling her as her eyes rolled back into her head and her back arched. The rippling spasms rolled over her and didn't do a damn thing toward assuaging that deep-seated need in her belly. "Goddamn it," she growled, leaning in to kiss him, keeping that firm connection between them. "Fuck me, Derek," she insisted. "I need you to just – lay me out and wear me down."

He didn't need to hear any more. He flipped them so he was on top and driving into her with vigor and strength. The bed creaked and groaned under the pressure, and she did her damnedest to keep up with his possessive thrusting. He was going to leave her in the dust at this rate – but he knew just how to get her off.

She was the one screaming – deep into the recesses of his kisses. Six, seven, eight – she was still clenching around him, the hardest string of orgasms she'd ever managed, each one so intense all she wanted to do was have another. She was on the verge of blacking out when she felt him shout into her mouth and drag her down into the depths of another deep, hot, aching climax. This one… this one was the one to remember. All the others were just foreplay: this one was simultaneous, overwhelming, and a bond that was going to keep them together forever. It was a promise of things to come.

Their kisses went back to being tender and loving, not possessive and full of need. The desire was sated, finally, though he was still fully sheathed in her, and her inner muscles were still rippling around him. They were hot and sweaty, but blissfully, happily high on endorphins and the knowledge that no one else on the planet could make them this fucking happy.

"Get off me," Penelope finally exhaled when they broke the kiss. "Your kid is sitting on my bladder: I've got to pee."

He chuckled and rolled away, leaving her feeling rather bereft at the sudden emptiness where he'd been. She went to the bathroom and came back in a hurry, rushing across the room and all but launching into bed under the covers with him.

"You've got icicles for feet, Mama," he teased, pulling her as close as possible once again. "You gonna get some rest?"

She mumbled something to the affirmative, not wanting to tell him she was already well on the way to sleep. He could probably tell, though, when she closed her eyes and cuddled up, her head resting on his chest, her hand splayed possessively across his abs.


	15. Chapter 15

I still don't own anything. Isn't that sad?

* * *

><p>Part fifteen:<p>

* * *

><p>January 14, 2012<p>

"Fran, you don't have to buy any of this," Penelope said, reaching for her wallet. "I've got it."

"I was volunteering to buy the clothes for my grandkids," Fran said, looking down at Emma, who was fidgeting – she didn't really care who bought the pile of jeans and other stuff, just so long as she got the awesome sparkly camo jacket she wanted. "It's okay, Penelope," she said, throwing down a credit card. "Let me do this."

Penelope sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. "Okay," she finally agreed. Fran was insisting on paying for everything that they were buying. She knew that Fran didn't have indefinite funds, so she felt horribly guilty about it. But she was putting up a fight every time Penelope reached for her purse to cover things, so she gave in before it became an outright battle.

Not to mention, Fran kept referring to the Garcia kids as "her grandchildren". While it was sweet, and Penelope appreciated the enthusiasm, it was starting to grate on her nerves.

Fran signed for their purchase and grinned at the Garcia Girls. "Lunchtime, then?" she said.

"Can we have Indian?" Emma asked. "I want aloo palak mutter and pudina naan, Mama."

Penelope frowned. "You should be asking Fran what she wants for lunch," she scolded.

"Indian sounds delicious," Fran spoke up. "I haven't had a good lamb korma in a while – there's a wonderful place we go to when Derek comes to visit."

"Indian, Mama," Emma said firmly. "Can we go to Chicago sometime? It sounds awesome." She directed that comment in Fran's direction.

"Maybe sometime," Penelope said. "Derek goes there several times a year, and we'll be his family, too, so – maybe he'll want us to tag along."

"Penelope, that goes without saying," Fran said, grabbing the four bags of clothes and smiling. "You're always welcome to visit."

"Awesome!" Emma cried, twirling in a circle and grinning. They headed to Derek's SUV, which he'd insisted on them taking on their shopping excursion, and piled in. "Mama? Can we have enchiladas for supper?"

"Let's get past lunch before we decide dinner," Penelope warned from the driver's seat. "Get your seatbelt on, Monkey, or we're not going anywhere."

Emma quickly fastened her seatbelt. "Fran, can I call you Grandma?" she asked eagerly.

"If you want," Fran said, smiling in the front passenger seat.

"AWESOME!" Emma cried. "Mama, I have a Grandma and a Grandpa now!"

Penelope wanted to rest her head on the steering wheel, but she resisted the urge. She was so tired, but they still had three places on the list to go. Of course, Fran was probably going to go broke in the meanwhile.

All she wanted was a nap. But she needed to get more maternity clothes – since the ones she had weren't suitable yet – and some more things for Brielle's room. This was likely to be her only weekend off in a while, so she needed to take advantage of it.

But that didn't make it any easier to smother her yawn as she started the car again.

* * *

><p>Long after they'd finally gotten back from shopping, Penelope woke up from a dead sleep of a nap. She didn't even remember passing out on the couch. All she remembered was watching Derek and Declan playing video games while Emma went to wash her new clothes and Fran put things away in the nursery. Now she felt guilty for falling asleep.<p>

"Shh," she heard Derek say. "Your mom is still asleep."

"But she'll want supper," Emma replied.

"Let her rest," Fran said.

"I'm awake," Penelope called wearily from the living room.

"Way to go," Declan said. "You woke up the sleepy bear."

She couldn't help but laugh at that as she sleepily got up from the couch and stumbled to the bathroom. When she came out, she was feeling much more human. "What's for dinner?" she asked, stepping into the kitchen. Everyone was crowded around the dinette, shoveling Chinese food into their mouths.

"I got you the ginger garlic shrimp," Derek said, offering her a takeout box. "You liked that the last time we got it…"

"I love it," Penelope said simply with a smile, leaning down and kissing him lightly on the lips. "Did you and Declan have a good day while we were gone?"

"We went and got Clooney," Derek said, "and then we played video games and watched movies. Did you guys buy out the store?" he teased. "I thought those bags would never stop coming inside."

"Oh, hush," Penelope said, grabbing a bar stool and setting up shop with her dinner at the counter. "Your fat Mama's gotta have something to wear, Handsome."

Declan rolled his eyes. "Mom," he sighed, "you have more clothes than the store has."

Fran chuckled, then gestured at him with her chopsticks. "Kiddo, we bought you some stuff."

Declan sighed. "You'll have to take it all back because I don't wear dork clothes."

"I helped pick," Emma protested. "They're not dorky."

Penelope chuckled and dug into her dinner, practically inhaling it. When she was finished, she drank a couple glasses of water and smiled at her family, who were still talking about the shopping. "Fran, did you show Derek the teddy bear we got for Brielle?" she asked.

"No," Derek said, glancing at his mother, "she didn't."

"I'll go get it," Penelope said. She went to the baby's room and smiled as she realized how much effort Fran had gone to. The crib had been moved, the dresser put together, and the changing table had been set up in the corner. And the teddy bear was sitting in the crib.

She picked up the stuffed bear and headed back downstairs. "Here you go, Sugar," she said, handing over the bear in its little Chicago Bears jersey and football helmet. "You can teach her to play when she's older, if you promise not to let her get hurt too badly," she stipulated.

He took the bear and grinned at her. "Much better than baseball, Goddess," he commented. He leaned in and kissed her belly. "Hear that, Peanut? We're gonna play football when you're big enough."

"I wanna play, too," Emma said.

"As soon as it warms up a little, we'll all go play," Derek assured her.

"Me, too?" Declan asked.

"Absolutely," Derek assured him. "What'd I tell you today?"

"That we've gotta stick together, because we're the only guys," Declan said with a small smile.

"And?" Derek prompted.

"And that I'm your son as much as Mom is my Mom now," Declan replied.

"Damn straight," Derek said, his smile growing. "And nobody is going to make me change my mind. As soon as your mom and I get married, you and Emma are going to be my kids, and I couldn't be happier about that."

Declan and Emma exchanged smiles and Declan said, "Does that mean Mom's bedtime rules won't apply anymore?"

"Uh, no," Derek said, chuckling. "Your Mom's rules are my rules, too."

"Told ya," Emma said tauntingly, nudging Declan with her elbow.

Fran smiled and said, "Be careful or these two will gang up on you, Baby Boy."

Penelope laughed. "Oh, boy, won't they," she commented dryly. "They'll have you wound around their little fingers in no time."

"Hey!" Emma protested. "No fair."

"It's true, isn't it?" Penelope challenged.

Emma sighed. "I guess."

"You should always tell the truth," she reminded her daughter.

Emma sighed again. "Yes, Mama."

"Are you two done with dinner?" Penelope asked.

"Yes," they chorused.

"It's time for you guys to clean up your rooms and do your reading for the night," Penelope reminded them. "And then showers and bed."

"Maaaaaama," Emma whined, "it's Saturday!"

"Whine a little bit more and see what happens," Penelope warned.

Emma huffed, but Declan nodded. "Okay, Mom," he said. "If I do what you say, can I stay up a little later tonight?"

"Suck up," Emma grumped.

"You guys can stay up till ten – if you do your chores and your reading," Penelope said.

"See, it doesn't hurt to do what we're supposed to," Declan said to Emma, getting up and putting his dishes in the sink. "C'mon, Ems, let's go."

"What are you reading now?" Emma asked Declan. "I'm reading _Wuthering Heights_. I don't like it much."

"I'm finishing Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban," Declan said as they left the room.

"You're doing a wonderful job with them, Penelope," Fran said with a smile. "I know my granddaughter is in good hands."

Penelope nodded and smiled. "I try, but there are some days when I don't feel like I'm doing enough – and some days, I feel like I do way too much and they resent it."

"You're their mother: you can be their friend, but they need you to guide them," Fran advised. "So some days will be rockier than others."

"Of course," Penelope said. "I just – there are some days, I just don't know what to do. And I want to go to Google and look up 'Parenting for Dummies'."

Derek laughed and came over to give her a kiss. "You're a great mom," he assured her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned into him and closed her eyes. "We should start thinking about where we're going to put your stuff," she commented. "And things like that."

He kissed her temple and murmured, "Don't you dare start worrying again, Mama."

"I'm not worrying, Hot Stuff, I'm just trying to plan ahead," she countered. "You and your overgrown puppy need room, too."

He grinned at his mom. "Momma, she's makin' fun of me – can I spank her for being naughty?"

Fran rolled her eyes. "I think you two are pretty much made for one another," she said pointedly. "Now, I'm going out with Emily Prentiss for drinks – so the two of you should enjoy having some quiet time."

"Momma, what on earth are you doing going out with Emily?" Derek asked warily.

"Girl stuff," Fran said firmly. "Don't worry your pretty head over it, Baby Boy."

"They're plotting things," Penelope said, chuckling. "Like how best to plan a huge wedding when I just want to see a justice of the peace. It's what girls do. They'll probably have JJ sit in and offer suggestions for surprise tactics."

Fran looked annoyed at being caught out. "Okay, fine, we're going to start drawing up some plans for the baby and the wedding and –"

"Momma, it's not your place," Derek said.

"Maybe not, but it gets me out of the house so I don't have to listen to the bed creaking and thumping above me," Fran said pointedly.

Penelope's jaw dropped. "Ohmigawd," she spluttered.

"Momma!"

Fran shrugged. "At least I'm being honest," she said. "You two were pretty… enthusiastic."

Derek got a goofy look on his face. "Yeah, we kind of were," he said, earning a smack in the gut from his fiancée. "Okay, okay –"

"I am so fucking humiliated," Penelope moaned, covering her face with her hands, trying to hide her flaming cheeks.

"So, I'm going to step out with Emily and have some away time so you two can have some adult time and not worry about waking me up," Fran said, heading out of the kitchen.

"Should we go upstairs and –"

"Derek Morgan, I am not ever having sex with you again!" Penelope yelped. "Oh my god, your mother heard us fucking like animals –"

He sighed. "Baby –"

"No, don't 'baby' me," she spluttered.

"My Momma knows we fuck like bunnies, Baby Girl. How the hell else did you get knocked up?" he pointed out rationally. "She's trying to give us some room without being rude."

"She shouldn't have to – oh, god, I'm so embarrassed."

"Mama, last night was hot like I wanna get right back in the saddle and have an encore," he said, trying to placate her worries. "But if you're scared because my Momma might get pissed about it…"

"Derek, I know I'm not quiet, and I know I can't be quiet and my bed creaks because I'm heavier than I need to be but –"

"Penelope, stop ragging on yourself," he ordered. "The bed is gonna make noise no matter what. Stop it. You're my goddamn hot baby mama and I think we should go upstairs so I can prove just how hot you are."

"Do you ever stop for one second and think about not fucking me?" she demanded.

He paused, looking her up and down, then cocked his head to one said. "Not so much, no."

"MEN ARE INFURIATING!" she cried, hopping off the bar stool and stomping toward the stairs. He caught up with her and lifted her into his arms. "PUT ME DOWN!" When she put up a fight, he threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He strode purposefully up the stairs like that, with her ingloriously draped over his shoulder, kicking, protesting, slapping at his ass and back.

He carried her past the kids' rooms, where the commotion drew both Emma and Declan into the hallway. "That's just… wrong," Declan muttered, retreating back into his room and shutting the door. Emma just gawked.

"Emma, you call Grandpa and tell him that Derek is – OW!" Penelope shrieked when Derek's hand came down hard on her butt. "DID YOU JUST SPANK ME?"

Emma all but ran into her room, slamming the door and locking it.

"DEREK MORGAN, PUT ME DOWN!" He didn't respond in any way but to smack her ass again, eliciting a tortured moan from her lips. "Fuck you," she hissed.

"Oh, I wish you would," he growled, all but throwing her onto the bed. He slammed the door, locked it, and started undressing. "Snap to it, Mama – we've got like an hour or something before Momma gets tired of Emily."

Penelope gaped at him. "Are you even kidding me?"

He waggled his eyebrows and smirked at her as he worked his belt buckle and slipped out of his pants. Her mouth went dry, so she licked her lips. Damn, that got her every time. He was just so damn… hard. "Penelope, you can stop drooling any time now," Derek said.

She swallowed hard. "But I don't want to –"

"Goddess."

She managed to drag her gaze from his sinewy… bits… back up to his face. "Hmm?" she hummed, thinking of all the ways she could jump his bones.

"Get outta those clothes before I rip 'em off you."

She didn't need telling twice.


	16. Chapter 16

I still don't own anything but a bunch of insane nail polish and eyeshadow that would make your mom cringe and a punk rocker rejoice.

* * *

><p>Part sixteen:<p>

* * *

><p>February 21, 2012<p>

Alpha Team had been on a case for almost three weeks and Penelope was getting tired of being harassed by Kevin Lynch. He kept making comments about her increasing need to cut off calls with the team and retreat in a lady-like fashion to the restroom. Or her increasing snackload. Or the fact that if HE was her boyfriend, he sure as hell wouldn't be out in the middle of East Buttfuck Jesus Nowhere, hunting a serial killer in the wilderness.

It was getting to a point where she didn't even want to go to work because she knew Lynch would be lying in wait under the guise of being her assistant. Her psychiatrist had recommended reducing her workload as a way to combat the extreme anxiety swings, and it worked – till Kevin Lynch tried to "pick up the slack". Then everything just went to hell and she would up and walk away to get herself back under control.

She missed Derek: so did the kids. But she knew that until they caught the unsub, he wouldn't be coming home. And, to add insult to injury, cell phone reception in East Buttfuck Jesus Nowhere was all but non-existent. She hated not being able to see him on the tablet or call him and tell him that her doctor visits were going a-okay. She had to wait till they got back to the motel for him to call and tell her that he was sweaty, exhausted, and just wanted to sleep. That made her want to cry because all she wanted was to hear the sound of his voice.

In her home time, she'd been working with the Director by phone to create and implement a new series of software that catalogued and cross-referenced crime reports from all over the country, creating patterns that could be analyzed by the system and track possible serial offences such as rape, murder, and theft. It had been up and running all of two days, and they'd flagged forty-eight cases for further analysis. She was getting worn out from all the work, but when she was home with the kids and working, life seemed not to suck quite so hard.

Her back was aching as she breezed into the coffee shop near the Academy. It was a slow morning, so she got right to the counter and smiled. "Hi, Sally – can I have the caramel hot chocolate and a pine nut bagel?" she requested. "Oh – and one of those delicious pineapple scones. Please."

The barista with green hair smiled and winked. "Baby's hungry today?"

"Oh, you'd better believe it," Penelope chuckled, patting her very prominent baby bump. "She's going to be born a behemoth – my fiance's mother says he was almost twelve pounds when he was born. It's beginning to frighten me."

Sally laughed and put in her order. "That'll be six fifty."

Penelope pursed her lips together. "No, that's nine sixty-seven," she contradicted.

"The hot chocolate is on me," Sally said. "You always come in here and make my morning brighter, so it's time I paid it forward."

Penelope rolled her eyes and passed over a $10 bill. "You do realize the change is going into the tip jar, right?" she said.

Sally shrugged and winked again. "Whatever makes you happy."

Penelope smiled and accepted her change before dumping it all into the tip jar. "I'll be back tomorrow," she promised with a grin.

"Hopefully, that hot fiancé of yours will come in again sometime," Sally teased.

Penelope kept the smile firmly forced in place. "Yeah," she said, accepting her drink and the small paper bag of baked goods that was passed across the counter. "I'll see you in the morning, Sally – and I love the new haircolor." She turned and headed toward the door.

"Stupid thing," a man muttered, shoving his laptop across one of the small tables.

She paused, not liking to see technological abuse in the real world. "What's wrong with your computer?" she asked.

"I just lost a couple of reports because it crashed," the man muttered.

"Ah – do you mind?" Penelope asked, setting down her food and drink and gesturing. "I know a thing or two." He gestured for her to have at it. "Ah, it's Windows – that's your problem… have you considered going to Linux? It's less tempermental." A few keystrokes later, she'd retrieved his last autosave and restored Windows.

"Thank god," he said. "How can I thank you?"

She chuckled. "Treat your computer with more respect."

She was about to leave when he said, "Can I take you out to dinner or something? To say thank you?"

Penelope held up her hand, letting her engagement ring sparkle. "Sorry – but if you really want to thank me, why don't you go ask Sally out? She's the barista with the green hair." She smiled at the man and headed toward the door.

"Do I even get to know your name?" he called after her.

"Just call me Wonder Woman," she replied, leaving the coffee shop. She wasn't playing coy – 1ndergurl had been her original hacker handle, and when she'd been Oracle, her handle had evolved into 1nderwoman. But she didn't feel right just giving out her name to a perfect stranger. Her father and Derek had been working on her skills of observation, and the entire scene had seemed more than slightly off.

For one thing, he'd triggered the crash. She knew that much because she'd designed the virus – not that she'd cop to it in a court of law – and knew the exact keystrokes to reverse the damage. He wouldn't have known that she could have that capability. It was just a little hinky. And when her gut said not to play ball, she was not about to counteract the order.

She decided to shrug it off and get to work. She swiped her security badge and punched in her code, then headed upstairs. She wasn't expecting to walk into the bullpen and see Derek at his desk, nursing a cup of coffee and an arm in a sling. She all but dropped her breakfast in her haste to get to him and fuss.

He saw her trotting over in her high heels and smiled. "I thought you swore off those," Derek teased, getting up to give her a hug.

"Eh, whatever – what happened to your ARM?" Penelope demanded.

"He fell down a ravine," Reid commented from his desk.

"What he said," Derek replied. "It's okay: just a sprain."

"You should have called and told me you got home –"

He smiled and kissed her. "I wanted to surprise you," he said softly. "And I think I did because you threw your drink across the room."

"The kids will be so happy to see you –"

Emily snickered from her desk. "The kids?"

Penelope sighed and rolled her eyes. "When did you guys get home, anyway?"

"About an hour ago," Derek replied. "And you better go pick up that bakery bag and keep your coat on because we're going home to pack."

"Pack?" Penelope echoed.

"We're going on a little tiny trip," he said.

Emily started humming "Going to the Chapel" under her breath. Penelope's eyes widened and she squeaked. "Oh – OH – really?"

"Dave agreed to watch the kids till tomorrow night," Derek said with a grin. "So we're going to run away and get married."

"You two do realize that the statistics on marriage are –" Reid began.

"Kid, shut up," Emily said, laughing. "Just let them go be happy."

"Shall we?" Derek asked, offering her his good arm.

"Are you going to be able to drive like that?" Penelope asked, gesturing at his arm.

"Oh, I'm not driving," he said with a chuckle as they walked out arm in arm. "We're flying. To Las Vegas. Your dad bought the tickets and booked the chapel already."

"I'll kill him," Penelope muttered.

"No, you'll smile and go along with it, because he's making a sweeping gesture by allowing me into the family," Derek said firmly. "And then I won't have to worry about those pesky boys you keep complaining about who think you're open game."

She snorted. "Kevin Lynch?" she asked in an annoyed tone.

"What did he do now?" Derek asked. "I'll punch his face in –"

"He's just been annoying the ever-loving fuck out of me," she sighed. "You don't need to do anything: I just need to work from home more so I don't have to deal with him. He made comments yesterday about how if he was my boyfriend he wouldn't be out traipsing around in the middle of nowhere trying to find a psychopath."

"That's because he's a chickenshit," Derek growled.

"Baby, stop it – he just thinks if he keeps pushing my buttons, I'll react." She squeezed him around the waist as they got into the elevator and hit the button for the garage. "Now, why on earth did you all decide we should just up and run off to Vegas and get married?"

Derek sighed. "Your father flipped out when I fell yesterday and he threatened me within an inch of my life if I didn't do right by you immediately – because you and the kids wouldn't get my pension if we aren't married, and he wants to shoot me for 'acting like a motherfucking hero'."

Penelope sighed. "Yes, that's my father."

"And he said he'd look into expanding the guest house if we decide to… expand."

Penelope blushed furiously. "Oh, that man and I are going to have WORDS –"

"After we get back from Vegas," Derek said with a grin, kissing her temple. "After you're my wife."

Her scowl disappeared, melting into a silly, happy smile. She knew she had a shit-eating grin on her face and she just did not give one single fucking damn. She was going to be Mrs. Morgan in a few hours, and that one single thought made her giddy with glee.

"And we have a suite reserved at the Bellagio –"

"Oh, Sugar, you didn't have to spend so much money!" Penelope protested.

"Again, courtesy of your father," Derek sighed. "The man clearly thinks he can buy your affections."

Penelope shook her head and sighed. "Maybe he can, but this is just ridiculous."

"He's forcing our hands," Derek said gently. The elevator doors opened and they stepped into the parking garage. "We have to commit and get married or something might happen. He's just worried that I'm going to do something stupid and get myself killed."

"Well, please don't," she murmured. "I couldn't bear raising three brats by myself."

He chuckled. "You've been doing a damn good job –"

"Stop it," she said, smacking him. "Stop talking like you already have one foot in the grave. You're supposed to be sweeping me off my feet and taking me to Vegas to get hitched in front of Elvis."

He laughed and kissed her again. "I'm going to have to hitch a ride with you," he said with a frown as he looked at his motorcycle parked next to Esther.

"I know," she replied. "Hop in, Hot Stuff." The drive home was silent but for the music from the radio. It was unusual for them to be sharing a car: they usually did the his and hers thing because he was on call and she had to be ready to run and get the kids at a moment's notice. But they were already outgrowing her poor old Caddie. Soon she'd have to look for something a little more spacious and, god forbid, responsibly adult – with plenty of room for everyone.

Fuck.

She was going to be a MINI-VAN DRIVER.

No fair.

Suddenly, marriage and kids didn't look like such a bright prospect on the horizon.

She'd always promised herself that she wouldn't be a soccer mom or one of those mothers that drove a mini-van for the sake of driving a mini-van. Or be on the PTA. Or –

She felt herself chafing under the yolk of maternal repression.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Derek asked as she leaned out the window and punched in her code for the gate.

"I'm fine," Penelope muttered, pulling into the driveway and heading around the main house to the garage they shared with her father. "I just – Derek are we doing the right thing? Having a baby and getting married and – are we?"

"What does your heart say?" he asked softly.

"Absolutely." She paused and sighed. "But the sensible side of my brain is screaming at me to stop and think about it."

"Do something completely irrational for once in your life and take a leap of faith, Baby Girl."

She parked the car and closed her eyes. "Will you be there to catch me?" she whispered.

"Every day of our lives," he promised.

She opened her eyes and said, very quietly, "When's our flight?"

* * *

><p>February 21, 2012<br>6:38 PM

Penelope stared around the suite, her eyes welling up with tears as she took in the sheer opulence of it all. "I'm going to kill my father –" she managed to finally say. "He didn't have to book the best suite in the place – all we needed was a room. Not a fucking mansion."

Derek hugged her and smiled. "He just wants you to be happy, Goddess," he said. "So do I, Mrs. Morgan."

The silly smile re-emerged on her lips despite her half-hearted fight to keep it from reappearing. It was official: she was the luckiest woman on the fucking planet. She had her own sculpted god at her beck and call – and he was all hers. She didn't have to share him with any other shameless little hussies. Even Emily had been forced to admit defeat – which was not something that Emily Prentiss did lightly. But when she did, it was only because she was completely whipped.

Penelope swiped at her eyes and murmured, "Maybe I won't kill him, but I will yell a lot. He didn't need to spend so much."

"Mama, it's not every day that your daughter runs off to elope with her Prince Charming," Derek replied with the lop-sided grin that warmed her from head to toe, making her brain start whispering all kinds of naughty erotic things to the rest of her body.

She chuckled. "Prince Charming can go fuck himself," she teased, "because I fell in love with the dragon-slaying Knight in tarnished armor. And he's so fucking hot that this princess would give up her crown just for a night in his bed."

"You don't have to give up anything, Princess," he said, pulling her closer, threading their fingers together. "You've got me forever. Did you get some old hag to put a spell on me?"

She giggled. "Nah, I didn't have to."

"Damn right, Mama," he said with a grin. "Now, are my girls hungry? You were looking a little peckish before we got hitched."

"Of course I'm hungry," Penelope said with grin. "I'm surprised you didn't hear my tummy grumbling."

"Oh, I did," he said pointedly. "So what do you want? Room service – or do you want to go get something?"

"Room service, so I don't have to get out of bed," she replied, releasing his hand. His smile grew and she winked saucily at him. "Now, where's the menu –" She grabbed it off the desk near the door and said, "Oh dear, this could take a while."

Derek laughed. "Whatever you want, Baby Girl," he murmured, putting his good arm around her, pulling her back flush against him. Her breathing quickened and she bit her lip, feeling his arousal against her back. "And then dessert: you like chocolate." It was all she could do not to moan. Not to mention forget dinner, jump his bones, and not get out of bed till it was time to fly home.

"Would you stop grinding against me?" she begged. "I can't think straight – food. I need to eat – Derek, your daughter needs food." He tilted his pelvis slightly and she couldn't hold back the lusty sound that erupted from her throat. "Derek, I'm serious," she exhaled weakly.

"I'm reading over your shoulder," he teased, kissing her neck. "Those sesame noodles sound good."

"You sound good," Penelope said before she could catch the words and reign them in.

He growled. "Focus, Mama – food."

"Sesame noodles – with tofu – and edamame pods – and chocolate covered strawberries," she finally decided. "What about you?"

He contemplated a moment, then said, "I'm going to have the diablo chicken."

"And for dessert?" she inquired.

"Oh, Mama, don't you dare worry about my dessert," he growled, nipping at her neck, making her moan and melt in his arms. "I'm a big boy now –"

"But you'll always want dessert first," she challenged, turning in his grasp and kissing him with wanton abandon. They were both panting with want when she broke away. "Order the food – and tell them to bring it in and leave it in the living room. We'll be… very busy."

"Oh really?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"Just order the food and get that cute butt of yours into the bedroom, Captain Hotpants," she ordered, turning on her heel and rushing into the bedroom. It was the little kid in her, but she bounced on the bed like she'd never been in a hotel before. To be honest, she'd never been in a hotel room quite this – incredible. She'd have to thank her father… after she ripped his head off for being so presumptuous.

The baby started kicking in earnest, and she smiled. "Oh, we didn't forget you, Brielle," Penelope assured her. "Did I mention I can't wait till you're born and I can meet you? You're going to be such a gorgeous little girl, and Mama and Daddy love you so very, very much."

She got up – with some effort – and shimmied out of her skirt. No point in making Derek have to use his shoulder if he didn't have to. Next thing to go was her button-down top, then her camisole. She was left in kitten heels, thigh-highs, and a pair of fire-engine red lace panties with a matching bra. If his eyes didn't bug out of his head, she'd be surprised.

That was, if he could look past the fact that she was not at her sexy best. Too much baby, not enough curves. She was beginning to think that she would never feel comfortable in her own skin: there was just too much of it. She ran her hands over her belly and smiled when Brielle kicked in response.

She glanced up to see her husband in the doorway, grinning that dopey, sexy smile of his, and that was the ballgame. He won: he always won against her demons. He made her feel loved and sexy and beautiful when no one else could. And he was all hers.

"Goddess, you better not plan on walking around like that when we get home," he said in a rough voice.

She blushed and smiled. "Only in private," she said. "Behind locked doors."

"Have I told you yet how much I love my wife?" he asked, coming over and kissing her lightly, almost chastely on her lips.

"Not in the last hour," she said, pouting.

Derek's eyes twinkled. "My wife is the most brilliant sparkling star in my universe," he said, putting his good hand on her hip. "Fuck it – she is my universe. And I thank god every day that I met her. I don't know how I kept stumbling through life without her smile to comfort me, or her legs to wrap around my waist, or her voice screaming my name."

"Don't tease me, Mister," she whispered.

"I'm 150% serious. That's 50% for free, Mama."

She stared at him blankly, then burst into laughter. "You're such a cornball," Penelope accused, accepting a real kiss from him – and she fell. Into a deeper love; into his arms; into the bed; into a peace that she hadn't known to exist.

She fell: he caught her.


	17. Chapter 17

I still don't own anything. Probably a good thing, all things considered.

* * *

><p>Part seventeen:<p>

* * *

><p>March 2, 2012<p>

If someone had told her that, after a pregnancy with no complications, her second pregnancy would be fraught with disaster, Penelope would have laughed at them. Unfortunately, she was on bed rest because her blood pressure kept spiking and she'd been experiencing enough Braxton-Hicks contractions in the last week to warrant several overnight hospital stays. Strauss was spitting nails, and Penelope was none too pleased with the situation. 27 weeks was not the best possible point in the timeline to have issues.

Especially when the team was gone on case after case. It was like all the unsubs decided that it was a perfect time to get together and party hearty.

Which didn't bode well at all for Penelope's frame of mind as she worked from bed. All she wanted to do was get up and pace, but she wasn't allowed up for any reason but to use the bathroom. Rossi had decided to take a furlough to watch over her while the team was out, but he was still available for consult by phone or tablet. She was so grateful that her father was there: without him, she would have been racking up a hell of an ambulance bill. The hospital bills were already beginning to trickle in and she was having even more trouble keeping her blood pressure under control after seeing the price tag her little bundle of joy was racking up.

"What do you want me to make you for lunch, Kitten?" Rossi asked from the doorway.

"Anything that won't give me heartburn," Penelope sighed. "I – Dad – I just don't even know. I'm not hungry."

He came in and sat down beside her. "Worrying about the hospital bills?" he asked.

She frowned. "Among other things," she muttered. "Like my husband."

"Believe me, if I have to, I will shoot him myself to keep him from acting like a hero."

"Yeah, that's all well and good – but you aren't there, now, are you?" she challenged huffily. "My back is killing me and I've had seven contractions in the last two hours. I have to lie to him every time he calls and say I'm fine because if I don't, he starts panicking about me and he needs his head in the fucking game. I don't know what I want for lunch – just fix me something and I'll try to eat it."

"Maybe you should stop working," he suggested gently. "I already talked to the Director and he's pretty convinced that you should be allowed medical leave, followed by maternity leave."

"Oh for fuck's sake!" she exploded. "I'm not some fucking porcelain doll – I can do everything everyone else in the fucking FBI can."

"Which you've more than proven since you began," he said in a very patient tone. "But your health and safety as my daughter is my concern and I'm not about to let you just –"

She threw her hands up in frustration. "So I get no say in my own life now? I was pushed into being married and now I'm being pushed to quit working. What the fuck!" She almost threw her laptop at him. If she hadn't known it would break, she would have.

"Penelope, be reasonable."

"YOU BE REASONABLE," she shouted, wincing as she felt an intensely strong, painful twinge grip her abdomen. This time, it was accompanied by a sudden rush of dampness. "No – no – oh, god, Dad –"

He was in her space bubble in no time flat. "Kiddo, what's –"

"My water broke," she choked out. "It's too early – it's way too early. Oh god, I – Daddy, I'm scared." Her heart was going batshit crazy, pounding triple time at least, and she was getting more and more worked up as she thought of everything that could go wrong in the next few hours.

"Okay, Kitten, I need you to try to stay calm," Rossi insisted.

"NOT GOING TO HAPPEN SO FUCK YOU, TOO."

"I'm going to call your doctor," he said, "and then, when I know what we're looking at, I'm going to call Derek. Will can pick the kids up from school and take care of them until things are settled. I need you to at least try to take a deep breath and stop panicking."

She swallowed hard, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes as the pain rippled through her. It was familiar but still alien to her: she'd experienced it once, but it was so long ago… Not to mention, when she went into labor with Emma, it was expected. Not like this.

She got up while he was out of the room and changed into dry clothes. Her hands were shaking as she stuffed things into a duffel bag: nightgown, robe, a couple changes of clothes, slippers, shoes… Her mind was running a thousand miles a minute, but the only clear thought she had in her head was "it's too fucking soon".

She'd just zipped the duffel when another contraction seized her. "Son of a bitch – Dad, we have to go NOW," Penelope insisted when she could breathe again.

Rossi got her into the car and handed her the phone. "Call him," he ordered. "I'm going to be driving – and you better believe I'm not crashing the car because I'm talking on the goddamn phone."

Penelope nodded and winced, scrolling to Derek in the contacts. "Rossi, man, good timing," Derek said when he picked up. "We could use your input about now."

"It's me," she choked out.

Silence, then, "Baby Girl, what's –"

"We're on our way to the hospital," she exhaled in a rush, the words tumbling together. "I'm in labor. Real labor. Not the false kind."

"SHIT!" Derek shouted. "Are you fucking kidding me right now, girl?"

"No," she exhaled. "I wish to god I was joking."

"Hotch, Penelope's in labor," Derek shouted. "I need to bail –"

"NO," Penelope said firmly, "you need to be catching the unsub. There's nothing you can do here. I need you to keep your head where it should be right now."

"Emily wants to talk to you," Derek said.

"BG?" Emily said down the line. "You gonna be okay?"

"Keep Derek there," Penelope ordered. "Whatever it takes, you keep him there. Keep him on the ground."

"Any particular reason why –"

"Dad, we've got to hurry," Penelope said, frowning when the wet feeling returned. Blood. Not good. Definitely on the high end of the bad scale. "Sugar Tits, he won't be able to help. Not in the air. Just keep him grounded and by the phone. Promise me."

"Pinkie swear," Emily agreed reluctantly.

"It's going to get rough," Penelope said very softly. "I… I need you to take care of him. Please."

"Don't you dare," Emily snapped. "Stop that right now. Don't even go there."

"Put him back on the phone," Penelope said.

"Goddess –"

"Put it on speaker," Rossi said.

She hit the 'button' and bit back a cry as pure agony crashed into her. It felt like her uterus was trying to rip itself out of her body ala Alien. The nightmare of Breaking Dawn was pithy in comparison. She could barely keep a grip on the phone, her hands were shaking so badly – shock and blood, definitely not good.

"Morgan, I'm not leaving her," Rossi was saying. "We'll keep you on speaker as long as the battery holds out on the phone. Right now, I need you to try to stay calm."

"How am I supposed to be calm when my wife is –"

This time, the pain was overwhelming and she did scream; a high pitched keening wail that she heard echoing in her head was ripped from her throat. She couldn't hold it back, nor the urge to squeeze the 'oh shit' handle on the car door until the worst of the stabbing agony had passed.

By that point, she was being pulled from the car by the gentle hands of what she assumed was a nurse, but she couldn't focus enough to be sure. All she knew was pain and Derek's voice on the speakerphone, trying to assure her and keep her calm. Her doctor broke through the haze and told her to push, but she could barely make the effort. The pain increased tenfold, and all she could think was if this was what it felt like to die…

She was vaguely aware of the doctor saying, "You have a beautiful little girl, Penelope."

The words kicked her back into some kind of reality, and she stared at her father with terrified clarity. "Why isn't she crying?" Penelope rasped. "Daddy, why won't she cry?"

"Her lungs aren't fully developed yet," he said softly, pushing the sweat-soaked hair out of her face. "Kitten, they're taking her to –"

She doubled over and screamed, drowning out the rest of the world. The pain shorted out her brain and she felt –

"Her blood pressure is plummeting," someone said. "She's bleeding ou-"

Blessed blackness. No more pain.

* * *

><p>It took all the energy she had left to open her eyes. Her fingers twitched, but they were held tightly by warmth – someone's hand? A hot tear slid down her cheek as she abruptly remembered everything that had happened. She made the effort to squeeze the hand that clutched hers so very tightly, but her knuckles didn't want to bend.<p>

The pain wasn't gone: it wasn't as horrifyingly awful as it had been, but it was still there, radiating from her abdomen.

She tried harder to move, finally gripping her companion's hand tightly. Her eyelids drooped; she was exhausted just from the simple movement.

"Hey, hey," Derek whispered, "you awake, Goddess?"

"Mmm," was all the sound she could manage to make. She wasn't about to let go of his hand.

"Sweetheart, are you in pain?"

Her eyes shot open. She fought the dry cotton feeling in her mouth and croaked, "Dear god, yes."

"I'm calling a nurse," he said, reaching for her call button. "How much do you remember of what happened?" he asked, pouring her some water and helping her drink.

The water felt so good going down her throat. "I went into labor," Penelope whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't know. It's all fuzzy. And then – I felt worse than I did the entire labor and someone said I was bleeding out, but everything was already going black."

He nodded and kissed her forehead. "I love you," he whispered, tears in his eyes.

"Brielle," she croaked in sudden panic, finding strength she didn't know she had. She sat up, painfully yanking on the IV in her arm. "The baby –"

"She's in the Neo-natal ICU," Derek said softly, grabbing her shoulders and gently pushing her back down to the mattress. "She's okay, as much as she can be," he assured her. "She was two pounds, fifteen ounces, but they think she's going to be okay – she's a fighter, Baby Girl. Did you hear her cry just for you?"

She shook her head. She'd been caught in the haze of pain; she didn't remember anything.

"I heard her," he whispered. "Just the tiniest sound, but she managed it just for you."

A nurse came in and he said, "My wife is in pain."

"Mrs. Morgan, it's good that you've finally woken up," the nurse said with a smile. "Let me take your vitals and then we'll get you set up with your next dose of painkillers."

When they were alone again, she was getting sleepy as the painkillers kicked in. "Derek?" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Do they know what went wrong?" she asked. "Was it my fault this happened?"

"No," he whispered, "it was absolutely not your fault. The placenta ripped loose and you started hemorrhaging, which triggered contractions – they actually delivered the placenta before Brielle. And then you just started bleeding pretty much uncontrollably." His face was etched with worry and exhaustion. "Don't do that to me again, Baby Girl. I had to listen to you slipping away from me and I couldn't do a damn thing. Don't you ever fucking scare me like that again."

"This wasn't how I planned my day to turn out," she joked weakly. "Believe me."

"Baby Girl, I hate to break it to you, but you've been in that bed almost three days now," he said softly. "But you're awake now: that's what's important. Now, you should close those pretty eyes and rest so you can go see our little girl."

"Why am I still hurting so much?" she asked wearily, snuggling back into the pillows. She knew she should stay awake for the answer, but somehow, she didn't manage to make it.

* * *

><p>When she woke up next, Emily was at her bedside, sitting uncomfortably in the chair, arms and legs crossed, sound asleep. Derek was nowhere within eyeshot – hopefully, he was getting some sleep and taking a shower or something. Penelope winced and reached for the call button, waking Emily in the process.<p>

"Hey, let me do that," Emily mumbled sleepily. "You okay?"

"Really sore," Penelope muttered as her friend poured her some water and passed it over.

"Well, I'd imagine you would be," Emily sighed. "Did Derek tell you?"

"Did they have to do a hysterectomy?" Penelope asked, knowing that would be the only thing that could possibly make Emily beat so much around the bush.

Her friend's shoulders sagged. "Yeah," she said. "It was the only way they could control the situation – you died on the table twice, Baby Girl."

Penelope nodded and said, "I know. It's okay. I…"

"Derek went to the house to get some sleep," Emily said, changing the subject. The nurse came in, delivered the pain pills and retreated again. "He was like a zombie."

Penelope nodded. "I want to see my daughter," she said. "I don't care if you have to get someone to wheel me in there, I need to see her."

"You need to regain a little strength before then," Emily scolded. "Rossi is going to come and see Brielle in a couple of hours, and you can go up then. So just chill the fuck out: you're stuck with me."

"Oh, great," Penelope groused, rolling her eyes and huffing. "You and your bedside manner."

Emily grinned at her and winked. "By the way, you're looking like crap, BG," she commented cheerfully.

"You look like balls, too," Penelope muttered. "Did someone kick you in the face?"

"I wish," Emily sighed, her smile failing. "I haven't slept in four days. Except whatever little bit I've gotten in this damn chair. I don't even know: I'm on empty, honey."

"I'm sorry," Penelope said very softly, very honestly. "I'll be quiet so you can rest –"

"Oh please, whatever," Emily said in a dismissive tone. "Don't worry about me. I'll go try to sleep later. We sent Beta Team to take over the investigation, by the way, so everyone's home. Strauss isn't happy, but we're not going anywhere till you're out of the hospital."

"That's sweet, but totally unnecessary –"

"Oh, bullshit," Emily scoffed. "You still doubt how important you are to the team? We don't function without you. That's the ballgame." She held up her hands, showing seven fingers. "If you go down," she said, bending one of those seven fingers down, "we lose Morgan, Rossi, and me. That leaves Hotch, JJ, and Reid. No bueno, Baby Girl."

"I'm surprised Strauss isn't threatening you all with –"

Emily covered Penelope's mouth with her hand and said, "Don't you even worry about it, Pen. Seriously, don't. You just focus on getting back on your feet so you can deal with stuff. You have an entire big family who can help you with dealing with all the problems that are going to crop up in the forseeable future, and you need to just recover right now."

"You need to rest more than I do, Sugar Tits," Penelope sighed.

"I don't think so," Emily said, shaking her finger at Penelope. "I know you."

"I don't know what you mean," Penelope said, feigning ignorance.

"The instant I'm asleep, you'll be getting a nurse to take you up to the NICU," Emily said. "And that's just not going to happen till Rossi or Morgan are here to answer your questions. All I know is she's tiny and hooked up to just about every machine known to mankind. And that her name is Brielle Samantha Peanut Morgan."

Penelope winced. "Seriously? Derek should not be allowed to name things – Clooney the dog and –"

"Clooney is named after Rosemary, not George," Emily spoke up. "Give the man some credit."

"But Peanut?" Penelope groaned.

"I was kidding," Emily said dryly. "Her name is Brielle Samantha. Jeez, woman."

Penelope let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. "I'm sorry, but –"

"Oh, shut up," Emily muttered. "Just chill out. How are you feeling?"

Penelope shrugged. "Like I'm drugged up and sore and kind of wiggy."

"I meant emotionally."

Penelope shrugged again. "I don't know. Jumbled up. Worried, relieved, happy, sad, everything all at once and then nothing at all."

Emily nodded. "That's how I felt when I woke up and found out that everyone thought I was dead," she said very quietly. "When you go through that, it's normal not to know what to think. I think. I don't know. Maybe it's not."

Penelope smiled sadly and held Emily's hand. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered, "and not dead."

"Well, me, too – someone's gotta be here to take care of you. You're always getting into trouble," Emily teased with a wink. "By the way, am I going to be godmother again?"

Penelope chuckled. "You and JJ – and Reid and Hotch will be her godfathers," she said in a firmly resolute tone. "And you guys can spoil her as much as you want – WHEN she gets home."

It was a tiny thing: she hadn't seen her daughter yet, didn't know the extent of her baby's struggle toward being able to leave this place, but she knew only one thing. That Brielle WOULD come home eventually. There was no if: only when.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Derek said from the doorway, getting both Penelope and Emily's attention. They'd been absorbed in watching some lousy daytime talk show because that was the best thing on tv, but they were kind of glad he'd shown up and saved them from incessant babbling about the new spring fashions. "You two seem cozy."<p>

"HA!" Emily snorted. "Daytime tv sucks, Derek."

Penelope rolled her eyes and nodded her concurrence. "Is Dad here, too?" she asked, hiding a half yawn behind her hand. She didn't want to show him how tired she was because he'd deny her a trip upstairs to see Brielle if he knew. She'd managed to garner from the doctor that had come in to look her over that she'd lost a lot of blood and that Rossi and JJ had donated enough blood between them for a transfusion. It had surprised her a little: she didn't think that JJ cared quite so much. But Emily had pointed out that the big vase of chrysanthemums and lilies by the bed was from JJ, Henry, and Will: and that JJ and Will were taking care of Emma and Declan till things settled down.

It was all in perspective, and Penelope knew that hers had been off. But she was too tired to make the wrongs right just yet – she had time.

"Yeah, he already went upstairs," Derek said with a small smile as he came over and gave her a gentle kiss. "How're you feeling, Mama?"

"Better," she hedged. "But I want to see Brielle."

"I know you do," he said. "So I got a wheelchair out here waiting just for you, baby."

Penelope groaned. "I don't want to go in a wheelchair – they got rid of the catheter earlier and I can walk around just fine by myself."

"HA!" Emily scoffed. "You needed me to help you to the bathroom. Don't be lying to your husband, woman."

Derek cocked an eyebrow. "Penelope –"

"Okay, fine, I needed help," Penelope huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and muttering something unintelligible under her breath about nosy people being all up in her business. "But I'm not riding in a fucking wheelchair."

"If you want to see our daughter, you are," Derek said, laying down the law in one fell swoop. "The only way you're getting up there is with me, Penelope. I made a deal with your doctor. Them's the breaks, Goddess. Now, are you going or staying?"

Penelope gritted her teeth. "Going," she muttered.

"Good," he said with a hint of a smile. "Emily, will you help her out of bed and get her robe on, and I'll get the chair."

"Ally-oop," Emily replied, helping Penelope out of bed and into her slippers and robe. "Don't get the leads and wires tangled," she warned.

"I'll try," Penelope sighed in reply, almost falling over in exhaustion just from the little bit of moving around. Fortunately, Emily caught her and steadied her, knowing how important it was that Penelope get upstairs and see her baby. "Thanks," she murmured.

"No problem," Emily said with a tired smile. "Now, don't be surprised if I head home while you guys are upstairs. I need to crash."

"Go," Derek ordered as he came in with the wheelchair. "Get outta here and get some sleep, Em. You've more than done your job here," he said, coming over and giving Emily a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for letting me get some rest."

"Call me if you need me," Emily said, smothering a yawn. "And send me pictures of Little Miss Thing up there." She hugged Penelope, then Derek, and was gone.

Penelope was none too steady on her feet, so she held onto the IV pole with a death grip until she was settled uncomfortably into the wheelchair. She felt very infirm and annoyed by the damn contraption, but it was her ticket to see Brielle, and she was going to fucking suck it up and put on her big girl panties and take her knocks.

"Tell me the truth," Derek said as they walked to the elevator. "How do you feel?"

"Physically? I'm worn out and dizzy and don't feel like eating because everything makes me tired. And I'm sore." She paused. "Emotionally? I don't honestly know. I think I'm numb. Overwhelmed. Something. I just… I don't know."

"I'd be scared if you knew how you were supposed to be feeling right now," he said softly. "I didn't know how to feel when I first saw Brielle. I knew it wasn't my fault, or yours, but somehow, it didn't stop me from blaming myself for what happened. And then I saw her, and all of it went away. That's our little girl, I thought, and ain't nothin' gonna keep me from loving her."

They stepped out of the elevator and Penelope whispered, "Is she going to be okay?"

"You don't need to worry about that right now," he said gently. "All I want you to think about is getting yourself better. Dave and I will worry about Brielle. She's gonna be fine: it's just going to take some time to get her big enough to go home."

"Mr. Morgan, welcome back," said a cheerfully smiling woman at the desk. She was wearing a kitty ears headband and had crazy makeup on. "Mr. Rossi is in with the doctors now, so you can go right in and see Brielle: she's opening her eyes a little today." She glanced at the wheelchair and IV pole and her smile widened. "You must be Mrs. Morgan! I'm Lynette, the unit secretary –"

"Hi," Penelope said, not sure what to make of the woman's overexuberance.

Derek kissed the top of Penelope's head and said, "Lynette is a good person to talk to when you need to dump everything. She's heard a lot of shit out of Dave and me the last few days."

"Absolutely," Lynette said, nodding. "They can't say enough about you, ma'am."

"Penelope," she corrected. "Ma'am makes me sound really old. I'm not. Old, I mean." She smiled at the woman, the action draining most of the energy she had left. She was starting to run out of batteries to pull from. She looked up at Derek. "Can we just see her now, please?" she asked. "I'm running out of energy in a hurry."

He stared down at her. "Mama, why didn't you say so? We could've come up later –"

"No, I want to see her now and I don't want to fight about it," Penelope said stubbornly. "So move it or I'll do it myself. And then I'll be even more worn out."

"I like her," Lynette said with a grin. "She's feisty. That's probably where little Brielle gets her fighting spirit."

"Hey, I'm a fighter, too," Derek protested, chuckling.

Penelope looked up at him. "Oh, please, you're a lover," she scoffed.

He deflated a little bit, looking more than slightly like she'd let the air out of his sails, and pushed her further into the ICU. They went into a small room and Derek pushed her as close to an incubator unit as they could get. Then he helped her to her feet and let her lean on him. "There she is," he whispered. "She looks better today – yesterday, she was looking kind of puny. She must've known Mama was coming to see her today."

Penelope took in the tiny baby and felt tears prickling in her eyes. Brielle was only about ten inches long and her tiny diaper was way too big for her. She had the sweetest tiny pink hat on her head and tubes and wires everywhere. There was no way for Penelope not to feel guilty: she tried and failed to speak, her voice catching on every regret she had running through her mind. Maybe if she'd given up the coffee, or if she'd not gone skateboarding with Declan, or –

"Brielle, sweetheart," Derek said softly, smiling when her tiny eyes opened, then closed again. "Yeah, that's right, little girl – Daddy's here. Guess who I brought, honey bunch? Mama." He kissed Penelope's cheek and murmured, "Say hi, Goddess."

She licked her lips; her throat was dry, her heart was racing. "Hi, my sweet, wonderful girl," she finally managed to say. She swallowed hard, trying not to cry. "I love you, Brielle – Mama loves you so much and I'm sorry –"

The baby's eyes opened wide and her mouth opened, emitting a tiny noise so faint they could barely hear it.

"Here," Derek said, "give me your hand." Penelope did as she was told and he put her hand into one of the gloves that went through to the inside of the incubator. "Be really, really gentle," he advised. Penelope touched her daughter's hand, smiling when the baby tried to curl her fingers around her finger. "She misses you as much as you miss her," he whispered. "She'll be okay, Mama. I promise."

"I don't want to leave her," Penelope murmured.

"I know, but you're exhausted," he said softly. "We'll come back up after you get some rest."

"Promise?" she whispered.

"Mama, nothing on earth will keep me from bringing you back up here – except a doctor telling me you need your rest," he said, hugging her ever so gently. "C'mon. Little Miss needs her rest, too – you've worn each other out."

They bid their daughter good-bye and headed back down to Penelope's room. Once back in bed, she fell asleep entirely against her will; but her dreams were filled with hope, sweetness, and most of all… love.


	18. Chapter 18

I still don't own anything. What the hell.

* * *

><p>Part eighteen:<p>

* * *

><p>March 16, 2012<p>

Penelope hurried into the NICU, her heels clicking and clacking away. She was taking notes on her tablet of things she needed to look up as soon as she got to work. It was her second day back in the office and she was already worn to the bone. The effort of adjusting from a life in "recovery mode" to "full capacity" was making her wish she could go ahead and go back to part-time. Kevin Lynch had trashed her office, left her a pile of unworked files, and had quit the instant she came back. It was a nightmare and she had no way out but to get on the bare-knuckles and knee-britches train and duke it out till she came out on top.

But she was determined to start her days – and end them – at the hospital with Brielle.

In eleven days, the baby had put on two pounds and had grown another inch and a half. There was no prouder father in the universe than Derek Morgan – he lauded every milestone with a party at home, much to Emma and Declan's delight. All Penelope could do was nod and smile indulgently and let him do whatever he wanted while she took over the task of conferring with the doctors and making the daily inquiries. It didn't help that the team was already back out in the field, so she had to report to him every few hours if anything changed.

"Good morning, Mrs. Morgan," one of the nurses – Kaylie – said with a smile as Penelope ducked into Brielle's room. "She's up and waiting for you."

"Wonderful," Penelope said with a smile. "It's time for cuddles!" Knowing what was expected of her, she unbuttoned her blouse and relaxed in the glider, waiting. Kaylie brought Brielle over and lay the tiny infant on her mother's chest. Penelope grabbed the blanket and covered them both, smiling down at her daughter. "Look at you today," she murmured, smiling as Brielle snuggled into her and mewled. "You're such a big girl, sweetheart. I know you miss us as much as we miss you. I promise when you come home, Mama will be there. That's why I'm not here all the time with you, baby girl… because I can't do both. I'm sorry I'm missing so much, but it doesn't mean I love you any less."

She pressed a gentle kiss to Brielle's head and smiled even more when her daughter opened her little mouth and let out a full-fledged cry. "Oh, goodness," she cooed, "that's new – are you showing off?" Brielle opened her mouth again, this time yawning and snuggling even closer.

Penelope's smile grew even more as she looked down at the fuzzy dark hair on her daughter's head. It had the texture of her mother's hair and the color of her father's – and she had the softest, enormous brown eyes with grey and golden flecks in them. Her skin was loose and hung in little folds like it was a set of clothes that was just too big for her, and was a beautiful soft taupeish color – darker than Penelope's, but much paler than Derek's. She was a perfect amalgam of them; she was the sweetest gift Penelope had ever been given by anyone. And Brielle was a gift: make no claims to the contrary, such a precious gift.

"She's got a big day ahead of her," Kaylie said. "The doctor is going to take her off oxygen this afternoon."

Penelope's smile faded. "Is that good or bad?" she asked. "Are her lungs strong enough to cope?"

"Oh, she's crying like a champ," Kaylie assured her with a smile. "Her lungs are doing just fine."

Penelope hesitated, then nodded. "Okay – I don't want to go, but I have to," she said with a sigh. "But I'll be back tonight: I promise."

"And Mr. Morgan?"

"Derek and my father are out of town on business," Penelope said. "I don't know when they'll be back."

"I only ask because Brielle misses him, too," Kaylie said pointedly.

"Yes, I know," Penelope sighed. "I'll try to at least get him on the phone tonight." She passed her sleeping daughter back to the nurse and smiled sadly. "I can't wait till the day she can come home with me," she admitted. "I'll be crying and it won't seem real."

Kaylie smiled. "I understand," she said. "You probably ought to button up and head to work. We'll handle things here."

Penelope nodded and buttoned her blouse before grabbing her bag and retreating before she could change her mind and call in for the day in favor of cuddling with Brielle. The latter was definitely what she wanted to do – not work.

She stopped at the coffee shop since she'd forgotten to fill up her mug before she left. She breezed up to the counter and smiled, half expecting to see Sally – but she was sorely disappointed to find Mabel instead. "I'll have a non-fat soy macchiato with an extra two shots of espresso," Penelope requested, cheerfully, "large – and is Sally here today? I have new pictures of my daughter to –"

"Sally won't be back," Mabel said sullenly. "Someone broke into her apartment and killed her three days ago."

Penelope dropped her bag and it landed hard enough on the floor that she had to wonder about the safety of her tablet. "Oh my god, are you serious?" she gasped, tears suddenly choking her. "Oh my god – but we were just talking about –"

"I'm sorry," Mabel said, passing over her coffee. "It's on the house. Because Sally would've wanted it."

Penelope numbly gathered her things and took the coffee, trying not to lose it. This on top of Brielle? And the decimation of her office?

The Oracle of Supreme Genius was having a shitty day – and she didn't even get the decency of dinner and a movie before the universe decided to screw her over. Her normally jovial spirit failed her completely as she walked across the street and entered the Academy building.

Once seated at her system, she ignored the current case and instead brought up all the details on Sally Ghoering's death. It was eerily similar to numerous other homicides in Quantico, Manassas, and surrounding areas. And, unsurprisingly, the cases had already flagged themselves as suspicious in her miracle software. She hacked into the local PD's systems and flagged all of the suspicious files as pending FBI cases, then decided to save JJ the step of pulling together a briefing on them – she would do all the research and have it ready when the others returned from New Mexico.

Only when she'd finished that did she actually get to work on what she was supposed to be doing.

The phone rang, startling her enough to make her jump. "This is the office of the All-Knowing, what's your poison?" she asked, reaching for her already cold coffee.

"Arsenic, according to the ME," Hotch said. "Did you get the autopsy reports I emailed you?"

"Yes, but I've been busy with something else," she said. "Give me ten minutes and I'll run the info and call you back –"

"No, that isn't necessary – you can just email the information," Hotch said. "How is your daughter?"

Penelope paused, not sure what to make of the concern in his tone. "She's doing very well today," she commented, starting to go over the report as she talked. "They're going to take her off the oxygen this afternoon – and she's packing on the pounds, finally."

"Good," Hotch said. "Can you do me a favor, Garcia?"

"Sure," she said, still unsure where this conversation was headed. "Anything for you, Bossman."

"Can you call Morgan and tell him that the baby is still alive? He's going crazy with worry."

Penelope sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. "Yes, sir," she agreed. "And if he acts stupid, feel free to shoot him."

"Dave told him to stop getting worked up, but Derek's –"

"Derek is just being a good daddy," Penelope assured him. "I failed at calling and keeping him informed like I promised I would – but it was a good reason, believe me. I think I've uncovered a serial killer close to home, and I've been putting together an umbrella case file."

There was a pause, then she could hear the smile in his voice. "Penelope, we've really missed you," he said. "You're amazing – but I need you to focus for now on the current case."

"Absolutely," she agreed. "And I'll call Derek as soon as we hang up."

"Carry on," Hotch said.

When she heard the dialtone, she punched #2 on the speed dial.

"Baby Girl –"

"Derek Morgan, Hotch just called because you're acting like a buffoon," Penelope scolded sharply. "I didn't call and tell you how Brielle is doing because she's doing fine – not because she's deathly ill or something. Don't you think you'd be the first one to know if something bad had happened? JESUS!"

"Pene-"

"Don't you dare 'Penelope' me," she hissed. "You know I'm right."

"Yes, well, excuse me for being concerned –"

"Don't take that tone with me," she snapped. "You can be concerned all you want, but you could have fucking called me instead of driving everyone batshit insane over there. Holy goddamn what the fuck, Batman."

"Why are you jumping down my throat?" he challenged snippily.

"Because you're being unreasonable and –"

"I'm sorry? I'M being unreasonable? You're flying off the handle and yelling at me like it ain't no big thing, Mama, and I don't appreciate it."

"Well, I don't appreciate HOTCH calling me to find out what the hell is going on because you can't be bothered to pick up the fucking phone and find out what's up yourself!"

"You know what? I don't need this right now," Derek muttered. "You throw your little tantrum and call me when you've gotten the fuck over whatever's stuck in your craw, woman." He hung up.

He actually had the nerve to fucking hang up on his own wife – when it was HIS fault they were arguing in the first place!

She scowled and decided it was time to ignore him. She had better things to be doing anyway. Boys were stupid and she'd throw a rock at him when he got home.

She pulled together the searches for Hotch and emailed them back to him. When she was done with that, she went back to cleaning up her office and starting to attempt to slog through the backlog of work waiting for her.

Making a small amount of headway, she answered the phone with a cheerful, "This is the Office of I'm Not Speaking to My Husband, Penelope GARCIA speaking: how may I direct your call?"

She heard a heavy sigh. "Baby Girl –"

"I'm sorry: do you not comprehend English, Agent Morgan?" she questioned, her productivity slashed by irritation.

"Are you done being a bitch now, or am I gonna have to spank you and tie you to the bed when I get home?" he growled.

"You're assuming that I haven't already called someone to change the locks," she shot back. "So take back the 'bitch' comment and start backpedaling because I'm NOT the one that started this fight."

He sighed again. "Okay, stepping back – way back – to the beginning of the conversation. How is Brielle?"

"She's fine," she said quietly. "They're taking her off the oxygen this afternoon."

"Really?" Derek asked, his voice changing instantly from hard and angry to soft and faintly excited. "That's wonderful –"

"Yes, it is," Penelope agreed, "and I'm sending Emma and Declan over to JJ and Will's tomorrow during the day so that I can spend the day with her. And I'm pumping what seems like fucking gallons of milk every day and I'm grouchy and sore and my staples itch."

"Sounds like another day in paradise," he commented dryly.

"I couldn't sleep last night," she admitted. "I'm sorry I just went off on you earlier – it's been a rough morning."

"Well, I was more in the wrong than you were," he sighed. "Peace, Mama?"

"God, yes – I hate fighting with you. It makes me think that we're – no, I'm not even going there. I can't. We've already been there and no. Just NO." She took her glasses of and rubbed her eyes. "You remember Sally at the coffee shop?"

"The girl with the pink hair?"

"Yeah – she was killed in a home invasion the other night. And it matches a bunch of other cases in the area over a ten year period," she sighed. "So I'm a little on edge now. It's compounding the not sleeping issue times ten. And arguing with you isn't making it any better."

"No more fighting," Derek promised. "Have you taken anything for your headache or the soreness?"

"Just some Advil," she sighed. "It's not helping much. And it's about time for me to pump again. Can you tell Hotch that we're done with the squabbling and can get back to work?"

"We caught the guy," Derek said softly. "We'll be wheels up after we do some paperwork with the local PD – so I should be home by ten."

She groaned. "Are you trying to sweet talk me?"

"What, a night in paradise with a muscled FBI agent?"

"No, stupid: sleeping, actual sleeping, with my husband – tonight. It sounds like a fairy tale."

"You just make sure you're ready for that," he teased. "It'll be a hot night in Casa Morgan – all cuddly and sleepy."

She sighed wistfully and put her glasses on again. "I've got to get back to work so I can get out of here on time and get the kids," she murmured. "I'll see you when you get home, Hot Stuff."

"I love you." His voice was achingly tender. "Don't you ever forget that, baby."

"I won't," she promised, "so long as you remember that you need to take out the trash – and I love you, too."

* * *

><p>March 16, 2012<br>9:18 PM EDT

She was glad that the kids were sleeping over with people for the night. She was beyond exhausted and the idea of struggling to get Emma and Declan into bed and asleep was beyond her skills at the moment. Brielle had sucked up what little energy she'd had left and now she was just… spent.

She unlocked the kitchen door and stepped through, pausing long enough to enter the security code. Her brow creased when she realized the security system was already off. Maybe she'd forgotten to activate it when she'd headed to the hospital? She hadn't seen Derek's bike in the garage, so he wasn't home.

Yeah, she was probably just being flighty and forgetful again.

She kicked off her shoes and stretched with a yawn, punching in the code again to activate the system, then she cleaned up the living room quickly and headed upstairs. Derek would be home any time and all she wanted to do was cuddle up and sleep.

She opened the door to her bedroom – wait, why was it closed?

Her exhaustion was forgotten in an instant as she dove for the gun in the bedside stand, but it was gone. Penelope heard a voice say, "Turn around and don't make any sudden moves." She did just as she was bidden, finding herself staring down the barrel of her own gun. "You think you know what you're doing, do you?" the man demanded. "You think you FBI agents are so fucking superior? Well, you aren't. And this proves it. You don't know shit."

"Please don't do this," she whispered. "You don't want to hurt anyone, do you? You can have my jewelry and the computers and whatever you want – fuck, I'll give you keys to my dad's house, too, and you can take whatever you want."

"I don't want your crap," he spat.

She knew the voice, but couldn't place it. His face was covered in a ski mask, obscuring any real personal details she might have gleaned. She was running out of options and time. "What do you want?" Penelope asked. "I can try to –"

"Don't even," the man snorted. "I've been thinking about doing this since the moment I saw you, Agent Morgan – or should I say Agent Garcia, since that's what you were then."

She swallowed hard and lowered her hands just a tiny bit. He gestured with the gun for her to raise her hands higher, but she fumbled inside the drawer for just a second – and a searing pain tore through her. It didn't matter: she had the knife in her hand – her weapon of choice in a pinch.

She heard the second shot, but she was already on him, a single wound being his one-way ticket to whatever afterlife awaited him. She didn't even care about the blood on the carpet. Someone else could worry about that, she thought as she slumped to the floor, clutching her abdomen. She didn't even care who he was or why he was in her house…

She was just tired.

Her phone was lying on the floor, but she knew she was going to make everything so much worse if she went for it. But all she wanted was to hear Derek's voice. She inched her way to the phone, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. Speed dial #1.

She barely heard Derek's, "Mama, I'm almost home…" before the phone fell from her hand and everything went black.


	19. Chapter 19

I don't own anything but the brand-new alternator that went into my car and drained my bank account today. (THANKS, MERCURY RETROGRADE.)

* * *

><p>Part nineteen:<p>

* * *

><p>The blackness was like a warm, fuzzy blanket, and she remained hidden within its cocoon, glad to finally be able to rest. She knew it was the coward's way out, but she just stayed put and listened to the voices around her. Sometimes, there were many, sometimes, there were few – but they spoke to each other and to her, and they were comforting.<p>

* * *

><p>"You can't blame yourself," Emily said. "You had no way of knowing that this was going to happen, Derek."<p>

"No? I thought my family was safe – that my wife was SAFE," Derek shot back angrily. "Why do you think Dave and I put in that security system? After Hayley and Foyet, what the hell, Em – what the HELL? How could we get sucker-punched like this AGAIN?"

"The bad guys find a way," Emily said very quietly. "If they want it badly enough, they'll find a way to make it happen. But Penelope fought back, Derek. She didn't just take it. She's not that person that will just lay back and take whatever's thrown at them. She never was. I used to joke that she was killer in those high heels, but, laughably, we had a mission once where we didn't get out in time. We had to fight our way out, and she literally used one of her shoes to kill someone. I'm not even kidding – stiletto to the carotid. She's gotten soft in her old age, shacking up with you, having a bigger family. But she's always been tough as nails. She just doesn't show it."

"She fought back and he fucking shot her."

"And she slit his throat. Your point is what, exactly?"

"She's lying in that bed half-dead right now, Emily. How is the fact that she fought back supposed to be comforting to me when I know – I KNOW – she could leave me all alone at any second? She's not supposed to be the hero."

"She's still alive," Emily said. "That's what's supposed to comfort you. She's alive. So stop it. Stop thinking in 'what ifs' and 'maybes', and hold onto the fact that she's going to open her fucking eyes and hand your ass to you for not brushing your goddamn teeth."

"I brushed my teeth," Derek muttered.

"Yeah, yesterday," Emily snorted. "Look, honey, Derek, you need to go home – get some sleep, take a shower. There are plenty of people to watch over her right now. Go."

"I should be here when she wakes up."

"You will be," Emily murmured. "Go."

* * *

><p>"The doctors said you should be awake by now," Hotch said. "So you're being stubborn. Which is not unusual, according to the files the CIA sent me when I requested your work records. Stubborn, tenacious, bull-headed, but Penelope Garcia gets the job done. Well, you got the job done, Penelope – but at what cost? You didn't know my wife, but I'm sure Emily told you about her. She didn't sign up for this, any of it, but she went along with it because it was my calling. And then, one day, she couldn't take it anymore – the late hours, the not knowing if I'd be there with her and Jack, the… the violence with which unsubs would react to being caught. I lost her to the Boston Reaper, Penelope, and I wonder sometimes, if you'd have been with us at the time, would the outcome have been any different? Would my wife still be alive if we'd had your skills at the helm? I don't think it matters, but… I'd like to think that it would. I'm your unit chief, but you are like an aunt to Jack – and I would be hard-pressed to think of a reason why I wouldn't think of you as a sister. Especially after this. You put your life on the line to keep that man from taking another life. You are a wonder, Penelope, and there are a lot of people here who need you. So please… don't give up just yet. Hold on and come back to us when you're ready. Please."<p>

* * *

><p>"So… I don't really know what you're supposed to say to someone when they're unconscious," Reid commented. "The actual act of unconsciousness suggests that the brain is still more than slightly functional, which lends to the theory that you can hear everything I'm saying, but if I continue to speak, will the eventual outcome be that you wake up and tell me to shut up? Or will you want to stay asleep until I leave? Because I can talk about just about anything – but I thought, since Morgan isn't exactly into 'geek things', that I would read to you. I picked up a used Doctor Who novel recently, and it's not bad –"<p>

* * *

><p>"So, Will says he wants to kidnap your kids and keep them," JJ said with a chuckle. "He and Declan get along great – and Emma and Henry are practically best friends. You should see her read stories to him. It's so freaking cute, you'd die. No pun intended. Shit, too soon – bad joke, let me rephrase: they're so cute, you'd squee for joy. I'm sorry all of this is happening, Penelope, but I want you to know that, no matter what happens, your kids are being taken care of. Derek has too much on his plate right now, so we're handling things. Dave is following up on closing the case, so Will and I are making sure Emma and Declan get to and from school and practice and are well-fed. Emma is stubborn as hell about the not eating meat thing, but she'll eat French onion soup – what's up with that? It's beef broth with onions in it. So, I don't know – she's kind of been picking a lot over the last couple of days and not really eating. I asked if they wanted to come see you, so I'm going to let them in a minute, okay? You just come back in one piece, hear me? You hang in there."<p>

* * *

><p>"Mom? I… we – we won the game," Declan said. "The practice game, I mean. And coach says we're going to do really well this year – I want you to be at the games, Mom. It's not okay. You being like this isn't okay. I need you. Emma needs you. Brielle needs you – WE need you, Mom. Derek asked Emma and me if it was okay if he adopts us. And, yeah, I like having a dad – but I need my mom."<p>

* * *

><p>"Why won't you wake up, Mama?" Emma asked, her voice cracking and breaking into tears. "Was it something I did? Are you mad at us? I didn't mean to, whatever I did – I promise. I'm sorry. Don't be mad. We just want you to be okay. Declan and me, we're being really good for Will and JJ. They're being really nice. But I want to go home and be with you, Mommy. And with Der- Dad. He wants to adopt us, Mama – and be our real dad, not just Sammy's dad. I call her Sammy, 'cause Brielle is kinda hard to say sometimes. Like when I'm crying. Mommy – please wake up…"<p>

* * *

><p>"You know…" Emily stopped and sighed heavily. "It's been five fucking days and you just wanna lie your ass in bed and pretend that you can't hear us. Since when are you the one that gives up? Since fucking when are you not the tough chick with the sweet smile? Your husband sits here, day after day, and he doesn't say a goddamn word to you because he's scared shitless. He's scared to death – of you. Of losing you. He doesn't know what the hell to think because you're Penelope to him – cute clothes, sparkly smile, adorable family woman. You've never shown him the true you – the one that's fucking 1derwoman. The woman who kicks ass and takes names and doesn't even smile when she stabs you in the heart and walks away clean. You had a clean shot with Battle, Baby Girl, and you took him down in one slice. That's everything you've tried to forget: you languished in Cuba and forgot where you came from, kiddo. And if that's what's keeping you down now? What the fuck. Just what the fuck ever."<p>

After a long silence, she said, "I thought you were just a soft kid who was dumb enough to get in over her head. And I was wrong. So prove me wrong about you now, Penelope. Open your fucking eyes and start fighting back. Be the ass-kicking woman you've always been. Please. Just don't give up."

* * *

><p>"I never told you how I met your mother, Kitten." A long pause. "Sometimes, I wish I never had met her. But then I remember that I have you, and Emma, and Brielle – and Declan – and I thank god that I met Cassandra. Because, even though she was… her… she made you who you are, Penelope. And you are my daughter. You are everything to me, Kitten."<p>

Idle, frantic tapping, then he said, "There was a case in San Francisco. Ex-hippies were being raped, tortured, and murdered. Their bodies were being left in plain sight, but no one saw a thing. I was working the case as FBI liaison to the local PD. Your mother was on the short list of former hippies and protestors who we thought might be next. So, I was assigned to protect her. And, it's kind of funny – you don't choose who you fall in love with. You can't and you don't and explaining it is too much. When the case was over, I took some vacation time and stayed. And… one day, she went psycho and threw me out – threatened me with a knife, the whole nine yards. I left in a fucking hurry, you'd best believe me. I didn't know she was pregnant or that she was planning on killing herself to get back at me for running away. I looked for her a couple of times, but… she'd already gotten married and disappeared, I guess. It still hurts because I did love her. And it hurts more to know that I left you with her all that time because I didn't dig deeper and find you. We all have scars, Kitten, and your mother is one of the ones right over my damn heart. Please, for the love of god, Jesus, and all that's holy, don't add another one for me, Penelope."

* * *

><p>"You do realize that we're going to have to lock up the weapons, don't you?" Derek said, his voice heavy and weary. "Especially with the baby – the other two are smart enough not to mess with knives and guns, but Brielle could get into anything. And after this, I'm getting the best fucking security system on the market. Don't even think about protesting, Mama."<p>

An indeterminate amount of time later, he murmured, "I don't know how to feel about you just cutting that asshole up."

* * *

><p>"I love you, Baby Girl. I'm sorry for all the stupid shit I've done. Being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be: you've shown me that."<p>

She knew he was there, even though he didn't say much. She knew when he was sitting at her bedside.

* * *

><p>She thought about coming out from under the cover that the darkness provided, but it frightened her to know that so many people would blame her for tarrying so long in the first place. That so many people blamed themselves for her inability to awaken. That so many people wanted her to open her eyes again. She was terrified of the pain that she already felt, that she would continue to feel.<p>

And she was scared to fucking death of the repercussions of taking a man's life: however deserving of it he was. All her life, she'd been haunted by the moments she'd spent with the people she'd killed. This was the first time she truly felt no remorse and it was beyond disconcerting. The man had wanted to kill her, and she'd killed him instead. Even shooting Chloe had resulted in nightmares. The man that had shot her… she just didn't give a fuck. She'd meet someone when it was time to be judged, and till then, she just couldn't be bothered to give a shit because one more criminal was off the streets.

But no one else would see it that way. She was going to be branded forever more as the woman who was as deadly as you thought she wasn't.

And then… it all changed.

She felt a tiny warmth against her skin, heard soft breathing, smelled the scent of clean baby skin.

The darkness receded into nothingness.

She struggled to open her eyes, feeling for all the world like someone had shot her in the fucking stomach – but her daughter was there. She had to open her eyes. She had to fight back.

She moved her arm with no small amount of effort, laying a hand on Brielle's back. Finally, she forced her eyes open, wincing at the bright lights in the room.

"I knew that would work," Emily said smugly, nudging Derek. "But, noooooo…"

"Welcome back, Goddess," Derek whispered with a smile.


	20. Chapter 20

I own nothing but the kick-ass combat boots I've been beating into submission for six years. Sorry for not keeping on top of this, but this past week sucked the life out of me, and writing was low on the totem pole.

* * *

><p>Part twenty:<p>

* * *

><p>April 18, 2012<p>

"Fran, I swear, I'm okay," Penelope assured her with a smile. "No need for even an Advil today," she promised.

Fran raised an eyebrow doubtfully. "You'll at least take a bottle in your purse when you go for your checkup, though," she said in a firm tone.

"I'll carry it, but I don't need them."

"It's only been a month and you're still healing –"

Penelope shrugged. "I'm almost fit for duty again," she said. "One more week after this, supposedly – but they're going to make me recertify to carry. And probably go through the self-defense courses again."

"Well, you're definitely not healed enough for the self-defense courses – especially the way Derek teaches them," Fran objected, pushing her hair back behind her ears. "You're in no shape to be doing anything physically strenuous for a while –"

"Hence why they'll clear me for desk duty and then put me on maternity leave," Penelope pointed out. "Brielle's coming home tomorrow, remember?"

"Right, hence why I'm here," Fran said with a sudden smile.

Penelope chuckled. "I thought you were here to be my keeper and make sure I don't do stupid things while I'm recovering."

"That, too, but I'm going to get to hold my grandbaby, too!"

"Of course you are," Penelope assured her with another laugh. "We all are – and it's going to be wonderful. I think we have everything ready – the crib has sheets and the bumper and blankets, the clothes are all washed and ready, we have diapers, formula, bottles…"

"Indeed," Fran agreed.

Penelope's cell phone began to ring. She glanced at the readout and frowned, not recognizing the number. She almost let it go to voicemail, but answered it instead. "Hello?"

"Hullo, I'm trying to reach Penelope Garcia –"

"You mean Penelope Morgan?"

"Whatever – at least you know who I'm talking about!" the woman replied in a clipped south London accent. "Anyway, I've been trying to find and reach her for –"

Penelope paused, listening to the voice, then she yelped, "Oh hell no! GRAMS?"

"Penny, dear?"

"Oh no – no, no, you are not calling me," Penelope said, her voice dropping to a low hiss. "I seem to recall that moment when you said that, and I quote, 'If you raise that child as your own, I have no granddaughter'."

"But the past is in the past and I'm –"

"Why are you calling me? Why now?" Penelope demanded.

"Because I –"

"Because you realized suddenly that you were wrong?"

"Not suddenly. For god's sake, Penny, you were in CUBA – under arrest, mind you. What was I supposed to do?"

"Clearly the answer to your question is 'continue on with life'." Penelope glanced up at Fran and shook her head once when Fran mouthed 'is everything okay?'

"Can't we at least meet and talk about this?"

"How did you get this number?"

"Ambassador Prentiss and I were at a function last evening and –"

"Wonderful. So I'm not even entitled to my own privacy now?" Penelope challenged, feeling all of the old anger and hurt well up inside her again like a festering poison. "Fine – you want to meet? You're buying lunch. For you, me, and my mother-in-law – who is going along to make sure that I don't do something stupid like shoot you in public."

"All right, well – wait, you're married? Hopefully not to the man that fathered your basta-"

"If you refer to Emma as a bastard one more time, I will shoot you," Penelope growled. "I don't care that you come from money or influence or the fucking diplomatic corps, Grams: you don't ever talk about a child that way. Did you say these things to my mother?"

"Of course not! Your mother was raped –"

"She was not."

"Don't argue with me."

"My mother was not raped. I don't care what she told you, Grams – she lied for most of her life. You know that, I know that: taking her at her word is like… listening to the addict telling you that he can quit at any time. I've got to go – I have a doctor's appointment in half an hour. Tell me where to meet you for lunch and what time."

"How about twelve thirty – at the Four Seasons."

"In Washington?" Penelope said.

"Of course in Washington – where the bloody hell do you think I'm living between postings?" she asked as if she were talking to an idiot.

"Fine. Twelve thirty," Penelope said, trying desperately to rein in some patience. "We'll be there." She hung up the phone and looked at Fran. "Remind me to have Emily kill her mother quietly. Ambassador Prentiss gave my phone number to my grandmother. My grandmother who disowned me when I got shipped to Cuba and had Emma. Who we're going to be meeting for lunch at the Four Seasons in about three hours."

"It sounds like I need armor for this one –"

"No, no armor… just a smile and a gun," Penelope muttered.

* * *

><p>April 18, 2012<br>12:26 PM EDT

"Don't worry," Fran said, putting her hand over Penelope's, trying to make her stop fidgeting and picking at the lace hem of her skirt. "You look fine."

"I'm not worried about looking fine because she always looks fucking perfect," Penelope said, giving Fran a grateful look. "Should I have told Derek?"

Fran pursed her lips together and shook her head slightly. "He'd just want to join us and that's probably not what you need right now."

"No, you're right," Penelope said, her frown deepening. "You're right – I need to put on my big girl panties and deal with this. On my own."

"With me to make sure you don't shoot anyone unnecessarily," Fran reminded her with a wink.

"Now you know why I didn't put the gun in my purse," Penelope muttered. "The temptation would be too much to bear." Her gaze darted around the lounge, taking in all of the perfectly appropriate businesspeople and celebrities settling in for an informal lunch and cocktail, and she suddenly felt completely inferior. Like she just didn't belong in their world.

Well, she fucking well didn't – just because her grandmother came from money and privilege didn't mean that Penelope knew much more than how to use the correct silverware at the table. She was much more into kicking ass and taking names than she was in learning to pair wines with desserts – or how not to wear jewelry that showed any kind of vulgarity.

It didn't stop her from wearing a red and black brocade skirt with a red t-shirt that had a sequined black skull on it, or a red and black leopard cardigan. Or sky-high heeled black boots.

She wasn't in the office so she could wear whatever the fuck she wanted to.

Of course, her gaze alit upon her grandmother in her blush-colored suit and matching heels and she knew, just knew, that no matter what she did, she would always be wrong in Helena Rose's eyes. She stood up and met Helena in a frosty hug. "Hello, Grams," Penelope said quietly.

"Hullo, Penny – you're looking… plump." Helena took her in and smiled. "But very much like your mother, god rest her soul."

Penelope bit her tongue, instead gesturing at Fran. "This is my mother-in-law, Fran Morgan. Fran, this is my grandmother… Ambassador Helena Rose," she said by way of brief introduction.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Morgan," Helena said. "I meant to ask earlier – you finally married? Hopefully, not the dreadful man that fathered Emma –"

"No," Penelope said, sitting down next to Fran again on the sofa, watching her grandmother warily as she sat across the table from them in a chair. "Derek is an FBI agent with the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

She had the same face as Penelope remembered, but she'd aged exonerably, as people were wont to do. Her once purely blonde hair was now completely white, her once smooth face held wrinkles and the slight beginnings of age spots. Her makeup was perfect, but nothing could cover the mole on her upper lip completely. It was just part of who she was: just like the money and the style and the brilliant diplomatic mind.

"Really, dear? I thought you'd gotten out of that game –"

"I left CIA custody and became a technical analyst with the FBI," Penelope said. "I do good in the world, Grams. We catch murderers, pedophiles, people who commit serious crimes. That's what I do. And do you want to know why Mom would have been horrified that I went into criminal justice? Because my father – the man who supposedly raped her – works for the FBI."

"You know that monster?" Helena gasped.

"He is not a monster," Fran interjected.

"I told you," Penelope said, her voice low and even, "Mom lied about being raped. My father – my biological father – would never have done anything like what she described to you and Grampy. He is a good man, a kind man, and he loved her. She lied, just like she lied about everything else. She was never right in the head, and you knew it. You just pretended all those years that she was okay and that nothing bad ever happened."

"Maybe we should order lunch," Fran said, putting her hands up and stopping Helena from saying anything else. "And then continue this… lovely conversation." She waved over a waiter. "I'll have the cobb salad. Penelope?"

"I'll have the fruit salad," Penelope said. "And a croissant."

"I'll order hot tea for the table, and a lemon scone," Helena said with a slightly sour look on her face. "And it's on the tab for suite 1538."

"Of course, Ambassador," the waiter said, retreating.

"Can we start the conversation again, this time without accusations and bad blood?" Fran said softly.

"How have you been since we last spoke, Penny dear?" Helena asked as if the question had a bad taste.

"Please don't call me Penny," Penelope said, fidgeting with her skirt again. "I'm not a child, Grams. I haven't been a child in a very long time. My name is Penelope."

"Penelope, then – how have you been?"

"I've been fine," Penelope replied. "Once I was released from Guantanamo Bay, I came to Quantico with Emma. I joined the FBI, where I met Derek and we fell in love and got married. And that's the long and short of it."

"Leaving out a few minor details," Fran said pointedly.

"Being shot isn't a big deal," Penelope said, rolling her eyes. "Neither is being stabbed."

"WHAT?" Helena gasped in horror.

"She's a little too good at her job," Fran said with a wink.

"I thought you were a technical analyst – they don't do field work!" Helena protested.

Penelope shrugged. "I'd like to think that I'm up to the task," she commented dryly.

"Well, if you're getting shot or stabbed, I would think you aren't!"

"Well, in both cases, the aggressor ended up dead – so I think I'm two up," she retorted snippily. "Grams, I'm an adult. I've got this."

"Your mum said that, and look where it got her –"

"I don't want to talk about my mother," Penelope said firmly. "Do you ever wonder why I missed curfew the night Mom and Sam died? Because Mom and I had a huge fight about her meds and her manic phases and the lies and the abuse and everything else, and I went out with my friends and got drunk and stoned. That's it. That's water under the bridge now. It all is. I don't want to talk about her."

Helena exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. "All right, then –"

"What I do want to talk about is why you called me today. Why all of a sudden, you have a conscience."

"Ten years ago, you were locked up in Cuba for computer terrorism," Helena pointed out. "I had to break ties."

"To save your precious job. And, for your information, now that it's all over – I was under cover with the CIA. I wasn't being held under duress – I was being held for my protection in the one place on earth that my previous target couldn't get at. You could have still been my grandmother. You didn't have to be heartless."

"You could have told me that at the time."

"It was classified. My point being that you should have cared enough to set aside judgment and just be my family," Penelope said, her tone dulling. She was so very tired of the old wounds, of being sharp and biting and full of strength. She wanted to be able to let go – but it never seemed to go her way. The past was supposed to be the past.

"I am still your family –"

"Are you?" Penelope asked. "Because you didn't even so much as pick up the fucking phone until I was out of that hellhole and now you want to play nice happy families and – Grams, you said I was not your grandchild. You said that we weren't entitled to the money or the status or anything associated with the Rose family – and I accepted that. I made my own fucking money and my own path. I have three incredible children and a husband who I love incredibly much, and if I'd've thought for one moment that you even gave a shit after that last phone call, I wouldn't be where I am today. You hurt me and I grew stronger for it. So, are you or are you not my grandmother?"

"I want to be," Helena said. "But you've obviously set yourself against the idea –"

"No, I've just made a family for myself," Penelope murmured. "Fran, Derek, Emma, Declan, Brielle – Hotch and Jack, and JJ, Will and Henry, Emily, Spencer and my father… I've made a family, Grams. Though blood, sweat, and all kinds of tears. You don't even know. And I don't know how to show you that I don't need your money or your pity or you looking down your nose at me."

Helena's icy demeanor suddenly cracked. "You're all I have left," she said very quietly. "Your grandfather died a few months ago. You and Emma – you're it. You're the only family I have left and I'm scared I've lost you, too, because I was a stupid bloody git." She struggled for a moment, her face showing her inner turmoil, then the façade slipped back into place. "I don't know how to show you that I'm sorry."

Penelope cleared her throat and glanced away. "Are you going to get a new posting?" she inquired. "I mean, I know you were in South Africa last."

"They're talking about Norway or Sweden," Helena said with a sigh. "But I'm thinking about retiring. I'm too old to be running around and playing political games with the big kids."

"But if you went to Norway, you'd be going home –"

"It never was my home," Helena murmured. "I was born in Norway, but I'm bloody English. My mum was bloody English and one of Queen Maud's ladies. So whatever. It was your Grampy's home, though. God knows we tried to make it work, but after the War… America looked so much better. And citizenship – for god's sake, this is the only place we could be a bloody family with no one looking at us twice. I had all the money and the family, and he had the brilliant political mind. We worked together and I'm no good at any of this myself. He was always putting me in the forefront because of his speech impediment, and I was only too glad to do it. But there's no point now. I need to get out of the limelight before it kills me."

Penelope's phone chimed, signaling a new text message. She pulled her phone out of her purse and tapped the screen twice. She smiled and turned the phone to face her grandmother. "This is Derek – and Brielle. My father and Derek went to the hospital to check on her because it's lunchtime, and Dad took this picture. This is your family now, Grams," she said earnestly, "if you want it to be."

Rossi had taken the picture of Derek and Brielle and captioned it, "We miss Mama." Derek was cuddling the small infant against his chest and smiling, and Brielle's little eyes were focused right at the camera. It was a perfect photo, one that showed just how her family was.

"And I've got pictures of Emma and Declan, too," Penelope assured her. "But Brielle is coming home from the hospital tomorrow. I know we won't ever work out everything between us, but I want to extend the olive branch since you called me. YOU called ME. Will you come to the party tomorrow?"

Helena paused, then said, "I would be in the way."

Penelope shook her head. "If you're serious about me being all you have left, then you won't be in the way. Right, Fran?" She glanced over at her mother-in-law.

"Right," Fran said, nodding.

"I'll… think about it and let you know," Helena said as their lunches arrived.

* * *

><p>April 18, 2012<br>11:42 PM EDT

"Are you still awake, Baby Girl?" Derek murmured.

"Mmhmm," Penelope hummed in reply.

"Why? We've got a big day tomorrow."

"I had a big day today," she whispered. "My grandmother called."

He paused. "You told me your family was dead."

"My parents," she corrected. "My step-brothers don't speak to me and neither did my grandparents. Not after I was 'imprisoned' in Cuba. But Grams is retiring and wants to make amends."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," she admitted, "but I invited her to the party for Brielle."

"Am I going to want to hurt the woman?" Derek inquired. "Like, if your mother was still alive, I'd want to beat the crap out of her and leave her on the side of the road for hurting you."

Penelope laughed. "Seriously?"

"Serious as a heart attack."

"Well, she did make a comment at lunch that if she were about forty years younger…"

"Oh. Oh god, NO," Derek said. "Just… no."

She rolled over and kissed him gently. "You are a pretty, pretty piece of man," she reminded him.

"Mama, I'm spoiled," he countered. "I have a very flattering wife."

She chuckled. "Whatever, Hot Stuff. The doctor cleared me today. For many things."

"Don't tempt me, Baby Girl," he growled. "We need our sleep – god knows when we'll get a full night's sleep again."

"Oh, you'll get it as soon as you go out on another case," she pointed out acerbically. "I'll be the one up at night with the baby."

"C'mere," Derek muttered, pulling her close against him till she was flush with him, then he held her tightly in his arms. "I love you, baby," he whispered. "But right now, I just want to sleep."

"Since when do you not want sex?" she teased.

"Since we both had a rough day," he said. "So shut it, Mama Bear."

She snaked her arm around his waist and smiled, letting his closeness lull her to a dreamless sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

I own nothing but a love of crazy.

* * *

><p>Part twenty-one:<p>

* * *

><p>April 19, 2012<br>4:48 PM EDT

"Shhh," Fran reminded Emma and Declan as they came into the living room. "You don't want to wake them up – Brielle's had a big day."

Penelope opened her eyes and smiled up at Emma when she hovered just outside her mother's 'space bubble'. "Hey, kiddo – did you have a good day at school?" she whispered, adjusting the baby (who was laying on her chest under a blanket) slightly.

"School sucks," Emma huffed. "I don't want to go back. I hate everyone. They hate me. I want to go to a different school." She wasn't even attempting to hide the giant mass of bruises that covered her knee and part of her shin. In fact, she looked for all the world like she was using them as a badge of courage – like mother, like daughter.

"Do I dare ask what happened?" Penelope inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I won at dodgeball in PE," Emma said. "And the popular kids ganged up on me on the playground when I was reading."

"Did you tell a teacher?" Penelope asked.

"Yes," Emma said sheepishly.

"Emma Leigh – what did you do?"

Emma looked up at her guiltily. "Nothing bad…"

"Emma."

"I kinda told them about this video thing on the internet… that you made… the one with the virus."

"EMMA!"

"WHAT?" she shouted back.

Brielle opened her eyes and started whimpering.

"You can't just DO things like that!" Penelope yelped, trying to soothe the distressed, sleepy baby, though she was probably going to be causing a lot more distress.

"They're ASSHOLES," Emma said in exasperation.

"Maybe so, but you're ten years old and that's not a word you should be saying in front of your brother and sister," Penelope scolded. "Go upstairs and think about what you've done – and make sure you think really hard about apologizing to those kids tomorrow."

"NO WAY."

"Or at least their parents."

"Why would I want to apologize to their parents?" Emma asked, clearly confused.

"Because you single-handedly rendered all of the computers and devices on their wifi network completely useless," Penelope said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're a one-woman disaster, kiddo. I'm scared for when you start dating. Go to your room until you realize what you've done."

Emma stomped off in a huff and Declan came up with his backpack still on his back and his stocking cap pulled down so his hair was over one of his eyes. "Hi, Mom," he said with a little smile. "Hi, Breezy," he greeted, leaning over and kissing Brielle's little chubby cheek as she fussed.

"What happened to YOU?" Penelope asked, alarmed.

Declan shrugged. "I beat the piss out of Joshua Berger because he beat up my sister," he said. His tone of voice held no remorse and in fact, he seemed more than slightly smug about it. "And I've got detention during recess all this week and next week," he said all too cheerfully. "The principal called Derek and talked to him, and Derek talked him out of suspending me."

Penelope blinked. "What the HELL happened to my good, sweet, well-behaved kids today?" she demanded.

Declan shrugged again. "I don't know, but you and Derek both taught us that you stick up for the little guy –"

"Not by beating the crap out of bullies! Things like that will get you shot and killed!"

"So what was I supposed to do?" Declan asked, yanking his hat off and pushing his hair out of his eyes, showing off his hard-won black eye. "Let the jerk hurt Emma?"

"You're supposed to get a teacher and –"

"The teacher was RIGHT THERE, Mom," Declan defended, "and she didn't DO anything!"

"That doesn't give you the right to just do whatever you want to do," Penelope challenged. "It just means that the teacher isn't doing her job. You aren't supposed to go around hurting people, even if it is provoked. What do you think Derek and Grandpa and I do at work? We catch the bad guys who do what you just did! Do you want to be like them when you grow up? Do you really want to be like Ian Doyle and Chloe Donaghy?"

Declan scowled at her. "No," he said sullenly.

"Then stop acting like it," Penelope said sharply. "Go to your room. No computer, no 3DS, no nothing. You're grounded for two weeks."

"MOM!"

"You can go to practice and games, but other than that, you're busted, mister," she said very firmly. "You can come down to go to the party tonight, but that's the last fun you're having for the next two weeks. You DO NOT get to beat people up, even if they're hurting your sister."

"That's not fair – you didn't hear what they said to her," Declan said. "She didn't DO ANYTHING to them, but they called her a stupid slut and a – I won't say that word. It's really gross and mean, Mom. And then they started pushing her and kicking her. Just because she's a geek doesn't mean they can do that."

"No, it doesn't – but just because you're a jock doesn't mean you get to break the rules, either, Declan. Now go to your room and do your homework. I'm sure Derek is going to have a few things to say to you when he gets home."

"No fair," Declan muttered, stomping out of the room and up the stairs like an elephant.

Fran settled onto the couch and said, "For the record, when he asked me what a… starts with 'c' and ends with –"

"Dear god," Penelope exclaimed.

" – was, I had to tell him."

"What the hell kind of school did I send my kids to?" Penelope asked, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead.

"A good one, but the other children are clearly less than stellar," Fran replied.

"Come tomorrow, I'm going over there and I'm coming down on the principal like the wrath of fucking GOD," Penelope said, absolutely incensed. "There is NO excuse for any of that taking place! None what so ever."

"You sound like you understand too well what happened," Fran said, trying to calm Penelope down.

"Oh, you don't want to go down that road," Penelope said, her rage suddenly replaced with the slamming of one of her many internal doors that kept her darkest secrets hidden away from everyone but her. "But, yes, I do understand more than I want to. And there's no way in hell I'm standing there and letting my kids take a kick in the teeth. It's not okay."

"No, it isn't," Fran agreed. "But if you swoop in to the rescue, you're going to give those obnoxious brats something else to smack her around for. It's a no-win situation."

"I should've already taught Emma how to protect herself –"

"She's ten," Fran said.

Penelope almost said something but she managed to choke back the words. "She's more than old enough to know how to defend herself," she finally said. "It's not like Derek and I are FBI agents or anything – "

"Penelope, don't you think you're overreacting slightly?"

"Hell fuck no, I do not."

"Okay, well, at least sit on it a couple of days before you do anything rash – or stupid," Fran said. "Let's just chill out and enjoy the party when it comes to us."

"God, I hope they don't get called away on a case," Penelope sighed. "Because then it'd just be you, me, the kids, and my grandmother. That's enough call for a cyanide capsule, right there."

"Especially since Dave and Derek are bringing the food," Fran pointed out with a chuckle. "Hungry kids, cranky grandma, no food: disaster area ahead."

Penelope laughed in spite of herself. "Yeah, well, now I have to worry about my kids turning into hoodlums and hooligans –"

"You're too young to use those words," Fran teased, winking. "And shenanigans."

Brielle yawned and snuggled back into sleep, obviously sensing her mother calming down – at least a little bit. "But I love saying shenanigans," Penelope protested with a grin. "Especially when I walk in on Derek doing something naughty."

"TMI," Fran replied.

"I said naughty, not dirty and depraved," Penelope laughed.

"Might as well be the same thing," Fran replied.

* * *

><p>April 19, 2012<br>6:30 PM EDT

"Hey, hey, hey – is there a party in here or what?" Derek called as he came in the door with the entire team following behind. "We have pizza and breadsticks and –"

"SHHH," Penelope insisted. "Brielle just drank about her weight in milk and now she's taking a snooze –"

"Oh, she's been asleep all day," Fran scoffed, laughing and getting up to help Derek and the others bring the food in.

Henry ran up and jumped up on the arm of the chair. "Is that baby?" he asked, smiling. "She's little."

"Yeah, she is," Penelope agreed with a smile as Jack came around the corner and climbed onto the other chair arm. "Hey, Jackkers –"

"Hi, Auntie P," Jack said, looking down at Brielle. "She looks like an alien," he pronounced. "I'mma call her 'Spock'."

"Spock's a boy," Henry said.

"You two spend too much time with Uncle Spence," Will said, coming over and kissing Penelope's forehead. "How're you two today?"

"I'm a little sore from holding her so much, but she cries whenever I try to put her in the crib," Penelope said, chuckling. "Poor little thing is a Mama's girl – I don't know what's wrong with her."

"Are you mackin' on my woman?" Derek demanded.

Will rolled his eyes. "Morgan, I'm not going to try to take your wife away – though I'm sure she'd like New Orleans…"

Penelope laughed at the look on Derek's face. "Hot Stuff, you've got nothing to worry about," she promised as he headed over. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Brielle's head, then swept in for the kill, kissing his wife as if they were the only people in the room.

"EEEEEEEW!" Jack laughed.

"Dewek, you're smooshin me," Henry grumbled.

Derek pulled out of the kiss with a grumble. "Okay, want me to take her so you can say hi to everyone?" he asked, reaching for the baby.

"Absolutely," Penelope said, handing Brielle over. "I've got to get used to holding a baby all the time again – I used to hold Emma and work at the same time. Still typed 115 words per minute."

"Ah, but now you have help," Will pointed out. "Where are the other two?"

"In their rooms," Penelope said, climbing out of the chair with some effort, getting herself into a Jack and Henry sandwich as each one grabbed her in a huge hug around the legs. "Declan got detention for beating the snot out of a kid that was picking on Emma. EMMA, however, told the kids who were picking on her to go to a website and watch a video – that has viruses embedded in it and will destroy anything connected to the network connected to the infected computer."

"I talked to the principal," Derek said, "and made it clear that if Declan beat on some kid, it was not unprovoked. So they're looking into things like security footage and will probably overturn the detention by Friday."

"You and I are having a LONG talk later," Penelope warned, shaking her finger at him. "But first: KIDS, THERE'S PIZZA FOR DINNER!"

It sounded like a herd of elephants ran down the stairs as Emma and Declan exploded out of their rooms. "PIZZA!" Declan yelled. "YESSSSS!"

Jack and Henry immediately released Penelope and tore into the kitchen with the other kids, leaving Penelope, Derek and Will to just laugh and shake their heads.

"When is your grandma getting here?" Derek asked. "There might not be food enough for –"

The doorbell rang.

"Speak of the devil," Penelope said, exhaling and brushing off her sweater. "Do I look like I've had spit up on me all day?"

"You look delicious," Derek growled. "Good enough to eat –"

"Stop it, horn dog," Penelope sighed, rolling her eyes. "Go show your daughter off." She headed for the front door, meeting up with Rossi as he moved in the same direction. Penelope shook her head and sent him wordlessly back to the kitchen, or at least, she hoped, away from the door. She opened the front door and plastered on a smile. "Grams! I hope you didn't have any trouble finding the place –"

"I'm shocked that the addendum to the directions was, 'go through the gate and around back'," Helena said. "Pray tell, how on earth are you affording the rent on –"

"I'm not renting," Penelope said. "Why don't you come in and get some supper – we have pizza, and I assume salad, breadsticks, and dessert, but everyone else just got here and I haven't had a chance to see what we have and don't have."

"MOM, DEREK GOT ME PEPPERONI ALREDO PIZZA!" Declan shouted as he ran by with Jack.

"Don't run in the house!" Penelope yelled as the boys tore up the stairs with plates of food in hand. She shook her head in amusement as Henry grinned at her with a milk mustache as he carefully carried his plate by and walked slowly up the stairs.

Emma was next out of the kitchen with her plate and she looked at her mother and the new arrival with a critical eye. "Who's she?" Emma demanded, plunking her plate and can of soda on the dining room table before slumping into a chair.

"Young lady, you're ruining your posture," Helena said. "Sit up straight."

Emma glared at the intruder, but she did as she was ordered.

"Emma, this is… well –" Penelope sighed. "Okay, it's like this – this is my grandmother, so she's your great-grandmother and she's in town for a while, so she's invited to the party." She glanced over at Helena. "Grams, this is Emma."

"Baby Girl, look at this!" Emily said, sweeping out of the kitchen with Brielle in her arms. "She's smiling at her Auntie Em –"

"It's just gas," Penelope said, smiling indulgently.

Emily stopped short. "Ambassador Rose – I didn't know you were invited to the party."

Penelope's jaw clenched slightly. "Emily, you and my grandmother have been introduced?" she inquired.

Emily's jaw dropped. "Oh shit," she said, retreating back into the kitchen without another word.

Emma stifled a snicker. "Somebody's gonna get their butt kicked," she said in a sing-song voice around a mouthful of pizza.

"Yeah, it's gonna be you in about thirty seconds," Penelope said warningly. "And don't talk with your mouth full. Grandpa would be ashamed of you wasting your dinner –"

"Don't mind my feelings on the pizza," Rossi said with a chuckle as he joined Emma at the table with JJ and Reid following him. "How's it, kiddo?"

"Delicious," Emma replied, grinning at him.

"Good enough for me," Rossi said with an answering grin.

"Stop spoiling my kids," Penelope sighed, rolling her eyes. "C'mon, Grams, the kitchen is this way," she said, leading her grandmother into the kitchen.

Derek was in the process of taking Brielle back from Emily when they came in. The baby's little unfocused eyes followed Penelope as she came in, and she let out a whimpering cry. "I guess she wants Mama again," Derek said with a chuckle.

"God forbid anyone come between Penelope and this child," Fran chuckled, topping her salad with dressing. Hotch chuckled in response and added a breadstick to his plate.

"Well, give her here, then," Penelope sighed, reaching for the baby. "She needs to meet Grams, anyway." She turned around and took a couple of steps back to where her grandmother stood, taking everything in. "Grams, this is the reason for the party – Brielle Samantha Morgan. She was born March 2nd, but she's just now coming home because she was born at 27 weeks." She snuggled the little girl in her little fuchsia onesie with orange stripes on it and smiled when the baby cooed and gurgled happily. "She's a perfect gem – when she's not puking on me."

"She's… so very small," Helena commented, reaching out to stroke Brielle's hair. The baby blinked up at her and made a tiny noise, flailing her arms. "But very sweet."

"Believe me, she's got a killer set of lungs," Emily commented as she loaded up a plate. "I haven't ever heard a kid scream like she did the other day when they pulled her IV line out."

"Well, IVs hurt," Penelope said defensively.

"Well, at least you're secure in the knowledge that no pedophile will try too hard to get at her," Hotch teased with a wink. "She'll be too noisy to carry off."

"That, sir, is the most horrible, tasteless thing I've ever heard another person say!" Helena said indignantly. "How dare you?"

Derek put his hands on his hips and scowled at Hotch. "You know, she's got a point – but since inappropriate jokes seem to be the forte around here, we'll have to forgive you," he said, grinning at Hotch and slapping him five. "Good one, though – just don't let Rossi hear that or you might end up on a pike in the front yard as a warning to the pedophiles."

Emily giggled and retreated from the room before shit hit the fan. Will shook his head and retreated as well.

Derek came over and kissed Brielle, then grinned and kissed Penelope. "Hi, Baby Girl," he whispered. "By the way," he said as he pulled back and regarded Helena, "I'm Derek. Your grand-daughter's husband."

"Oh, god, I'm such a ditz," Penelope sighed. "Derek, this is Grams – Ambassador Helena Rose. Grams, this is Derek Morgan, my husband –"

"And don't mind me as I run away," Fran replied, retreating from the room as quickly as her legs could carry her.

"It's good to meet you, Helena," Derek said, extending his hand toward her.

Helena paused a moment, and Penelope said, "Oh, for god's sake, just hug her. I have a baby in my arms or I would."

Derek rolled his eyes and chuckled before he hesitantly hugged her. "Why don't you come with me and I'll introduce you to everyone," he said. "First off – this is Aaron Hotchner, the Unit Chief at the BAU… he's Penelope's and my boss."

"Sorry about the inappropriate joke," Hotch apologized contritely. "I forget sometimes."

Helena nodded stiffly. "Well, you're forgiven – this once," she said, offering Hotch her hand for a shake. Then Derek whisked her off to the other room.

"Your mother's mother?" Hotch asked.

"Unfortunately," Penelope said with a sigh. "She's… something else."

"But…?"

"But, she's getting old and wants to make amends and I have to take the high road," Penelope sighed. "Because I'm a nice person." She reached over and grabbed a breadstick, taking a bite, then continuing with a full mouth, "Besides, I mean, she's important and influential and if nothing else, she can set up some kind of a private grant to help fund some of the work I do in conjunction with the BAU and FBI. Or whatever. I'm equal opportunity here."

"YOU!" they heard Helena shout from the dining room.

"Oh fuck," Penelope muttered.


	22. Chapter 22

I don't own anything but the knowledge that the Christmas season broke my Fa-la-la.

* * *

><p>Part twenty-two:<p>

* * *

><p>Shit had, indeed, hit the fan and exploded everywhere in a messy mess of shitty awfulness.<p>

By the time Penelope and Hotch got into the dining room, Helena was already in Rossi's face. "Look, lady," Rossi was saying, "I don't give a flying fuck what your daughter told you –"

"My daughter –"

"ENOUGH!" Penelope shouted. The room fell utterly silent and all eyes were immediately drawn to her. She wasn't exactly eager for the feeling of full attention on her, but she at least knew they were all listening for once. "Grams, this is my house and you will not disrespect anyone in it," she said firmly. "I already told you that David Rossi is not what my mother portrayed him to be. We discussed all of this yesterday and you promised to behave. Do not make me call your driver and have him haul you out of here. I mean it. Don't try me."

"But –"

"No buts," Derek said.

Penelope raised an eyebrow at her husband, then said, "Grams, my father has been very good to this family, and no matter what happened before – whether either or both of my parents lied about their relationship – he's been a good father and grandfather. So stop it. Get some food. Meet some people. Or something. I don't really care." She looked at Rossi. "And you – don't feed the trolls."

Reid chuckled and said, "Actually, the sociological makeup of this table is –"

"Stick that pizza in your face," Penelope ordered.

Everyone but Helena, Reid, and Emma started laughing. Emma frowned at her mother and said, "Mom, you should be nice to Uncle Spence."

"Yeah," Reid said, giving Penelope a dirty look.

"Hey, didn't she tell you to stuff that pizza in your face?" Derek said, grinning. Reid glowered at him then took a bite.

"And that, Helena, is Doctor Spencer Reid," Rossi said. "All complaints should be directed to him."

"Thanks," Reid muttered sarcastically.

"Grams, why don't you come back to the kitchen with me?" Penelope suggested, her hardened criminal talk-down mode inactive again, replaced by a softer, kinder, fluffy tone of voice. "You can get some food and I'll get Little Miss's next feeding ready."

Helena paused, looked around the room, then said, "Maybe I should leave. You all seem to be –"

"No," Emily said, "we're a family, but you're actually Penelope's family, so you belong here more than the rest of us do. If anything, we should leave. But the food is excellent and the company kicks ass, so let's just relax and celebrate Brielle finally getting to come home."

"What she said," Hotch commented wryly.

"Oh, Hotch, you shouldn't try to be hip," JJ said, wrinkling her nose. "It's 'that's what she said'."

Penelope rolled her eyes and sighed. "Food," she said, heading back toward the kitchen. By the time Helena and Derek caught up, she was leaning against the cupboard with Brielle in one arm and a slice of pizza in her free hand. Every time she took a bite, grease dribbled down her arm. There was no avoiding it. And she knew she looked ridiculous, but her hunger was no match for looking like she was bathing in grease!

"So, that's the family – aside from my sisters, Sarah and Desiree, and Sarah's family," Derek said cheerfully. "All the other munchkins are upstairs."

"It's very… cozy," Helena said. "But I feel like I'm intruding, because I'm clearly not needed here."

Penelope swallowed her mouthful and said, "Don't be stupid. Just don't get psycho on Dad and you definitely have a space in the family, Grams. There's always room for one more. Always."

Derek came over to fuss over Brielle for a moment, then gave Penelope a kiss. "I'll take her," he volunteered, "so you don't have to do as much laundry."

Penelope laughed and kissed him back. "You're a little late for that," she teased. "We're already on the third load of the day."

Derek kissed her one more time, then gently pulled Brielle into his arms. "Mama's a silly girl, isn't she, Princess?" he asked with a smile, gently tapping the baby on the nose. Brielle stuck her little tongue out in reply, then yawned. "Helena, why don't you get some dinner," he suggested. "I'm going to run upstairs and check on the boys just to make sure they haven't plotted to destroy the universe or anything."

"Make sure Jack isn't anywhere near Declan's Sharpies," Penelope warned. "Remember last time?"

Derek had a hard time keeping a straight face. "Yes, I do, and I thought JJ wouldn't stop yelling," he said, chuckling. "Jack drew a smiley face on Henry's cheek in black permanent marker," he explained for Helena's benefit.

"I suppose that would only be slightly better than drawing a penis," Helena quipped wryly.

"Grams, they're only five and three," Penelope chuckled. "Don't give them ideas."

"Maybe we shouldn't leave them with a nine year old, then," Derek teased her with a wink. They both knew that Declan was harmless as a declawed kitten. Most of the time, anyway. "Anyway, I'm going to check on them." He leaned in and kissed her. "Be good, Mrs. Morgan."

"I'm always good," Penelope protested with a smirk. "Even when it's being good at being bad."

"Woman, don't go there," he growled. "Your daughter can hear you."

"So can I," Helena spoke up from where she was putting together a salad.

"Yes, but you understand about sex," Derek countered with a grin and a wink that made the older woman blush. Penelope almost facepalmed with pizza in her hand: nothing like buttering up old grannies with the memories of dalliances past. She almost shuddered just thinking about it. And then she twitched reflexively for good measure, her frown growing.

"Get outta here," Penelope instructed before he could catch the disgust she was trying valiantly to hide.

He took off, a dirty chuckle left floating in his wake.

* * *

><p>April 19, 2012<br>10:45 PM EDT

She didn't remember being so tired when Emma was a baby. Of course, she also hadn't been shot or had surgery or anything else when Emma was a baby. The universe was conspiring against her, demanding that she fucking well rest already. She could barely keep her eyes open as Helena told yet another semi-embarrassing story about her childhood – the time when she got pissed off, ran away, got distracted by the neighbor's new puppy, and didn't make it past the back yard – and she pretty much decided that the party was over.

She poked Derek gently in the ribs as she smothered a yawn with her hand. "I don't know about you, but I've got a 3am feeding coming up," Penelope murmured, "and I'm pooped. It's just the stragglers now, so… kick 'em out and come to bed."

"You heard the party girl," Derek said. "Last call – anyone need a ride home?"

"Please, like I've been drinking," Emily snorted. "Besides –"

"We all have an early morning," Rossi reminded them. "Morgan is teaching, Prentiss has a training session with the newbs, and Reid –"

"I have an early flight to Las Vegas," Reid said. "Sorry, Penelope – I won't be able to tutor Emma for a few days."

"It's okay," Penelope assured him with another yawn. "Sorry, the old woman here needs some sleep," she murmured.

"Are you still taking painkillers?" Rossi asked.

"Not a one," Penelope replied wearily but cheerfully. "Fran broke me of them over a week ago."

"Indeed," Fran agreed, nodding.

Penelope moved to hug Helena and said softly, "I'm glad you came, Grams – next time, though, wear jeans and pretend like you're human, okay? You look like you just waltzed in from the Queen's garden party. And you act like you're afraid to be yourself." She leaned in and kissed her grandmother's cheek. "Besides," she whispered, "you're retiring, right? You need to learn to play shuffleboard and wear crop pants."

"Oh, thank you for that lovely mental image," Helena muttered sarcastically. "You know what? You've done very well for yourself, Penelope. You have a lovely family. And your friends are…"

"My family," Penelope reminded her gently. "It's okay. Do you want me to give you a call tomorrow?"

"No, I'm actually flying to Montreal tomorrow for a function," Helena said with a small smile. "But it's been lovely seeing you again."

The abandonment didn't sting like it always had before. She'd finally gotten over it. Her grandmother could do whatever the hell she wanted to: Penelope was finally fine with everything she had, and didn't want anything that Helena wasn't willing to give her.

"You'll call when you're in town again?" Penelope prompted.

"Absolutely – and we'll teach your daughter a thing or two about dressing herself," Helena teased, winking.

"Oh, no, she's not going to wear tweed," Penelope laughed. "Not like that hideous skirt you bought me when I was twelve. No way."

"I was thinking a good tartan –"

"Hell no," Penelope said. "I have to draw the line somewhere, Grams. Do you want me to walk you out to your car?"

"No, I'll find my way," Helena said. "I'm proud of you, dear – you've done very well for yourself, in spite of me."

"I'll e-mail you pictures of the kids," Penelope promised. "And you call me if you have anymore problems with your laptop."

"I will," Helena said, giving Penelope a kiss. "It was a pleasure to meet you all," she said to the room in general. She pointed at Derek. "You take care of her," she declared firmly. "Do not let Penelope do any more showing off. She's a tech, not a full-blown agent."

Derek smiled. "Yes, ma'am," he agreed.

"Don't make me shoot you, honey," Penelope warned teasingly, wandering over to hug Reid and Emily. "Good night, guys – Spencer, have a good trip and keep us updated on your mom, okay? Em, you get some sleep – you look like shit."

Emily rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yeah, well –"

"Yeah, well, nothing. Sleep, Sugar Tits." Penelope gave Rossi a kiss on the cheek. "See you tomorrow, Dad. I'm going to make dinner, if you want to bring dessert."

"Get some rest, Kitten," Rossi warned softly. "You're going to need it – especially if we get called away in the next couple of days for a case."

"I know," she murmured. "Don't worry so much about me."

"Why wouldn't I worry about my kid?" Rossi countered. "Don't give me any of that lip, missy."

"Good night, Dad," she said, hugging him again. "I'm going to bed."

He kissed her forehead. "I'll come by around lunchtime if we don't get called away," Rossi promised.

"You don't have to," Penelope protested with a sigh. "Brielle and I will be fine – we have Fran."

"I said I'll be by at lunchtime," he repeated. "Don't sass me, young lady."

Emily snickered. "Watch it, we're dealing with a badass over here," she teased, winking at Penelope. "C'mon, Spencer – let's get you home and rested before your flight."

Reid was saying, "I don't think that's a very likely scenario…" as she dragged him toward the coat closet. Helena had already disappeared by that point. Which only left one more very stubborn dude to evict.

"Dad, you know I didn't mean to be rude, I'm just tired and want to go to bed," Penelope sighed.

"Go to bed, my aunt fanny," Fran muttered.

Rossi leapt on that like a dog with a bone. "What does Fran mean?"

"She got cleared for everything yesterday," Fran said pointedly.

Rossi's eyes got bigger, then his smile returned. "Gotcha – would you care to join me at mine for a nightcap?" he inquired. "Or a set of earplugs?"

"Rossi, man, don't be raunchy," Derek pleaded.

Rossi snorted slightly. "Yeah," Fran finally said, "I do value my hearing."

"MOM!" "DAD!" Derek and Penelope cried at the same time.

"I'll let myself back in when I think you crazy kids have had enough fun time," Fran said. "Or for the three o'clock feeding, whichever comes first."

Penelope sighed and rolled her eyes. "It's not like we were actually going to do anything," she muttered.

"Still going to the mansion for a while," Fran said.

Derek put his arm around Penelope's waist and kissed her neck. "Let's let them out, set the alarm, check on the kids, and get some sleep."

"Sleep my ass," Rossi commented, winking.

"Did anyone put the pizza up?" Penelope asked.

"Nope, but counter-chilled pizza never hurt anyone," Fran said. "I'll work on it when I come back."

"Well, I'm going upstairs," Penelope said. "YOU can lock up and check on the kids," she said pointedly to Derek as she pulled out of his embrace and started slogging slowly up the steps. Despite her staples having come out and her stitches having mostly healed, she still had some pain when she moved too quickly, in the wrong direction, or she lifted too much at one time. It was supposedly normal: all she knew was that she was doing everything she could to avoid triggering it in the first place.

Ten minutes later, she was finishing up in the bathroom, dressed down in a long t-shirt with Minnie Mouse screenprinted on the front and a hideous pair of bootie slippers that Derek loathed but had bought for her anyway. They helped keep her feet from freezing on the cold ceramic tile in the bathroom. Her hair was in braided pigtails and she'd never felt more unsexy in her life. She still had grey-green-purple bruises beneath her eyes from not sleeping as well as she should have been and her skin had a less-than-lustrous quality to it that could be chalked up to being cooped up indoors for several weeks while recouperating. Definitely unsexy. And those few pounds she'd managed to lose were back with a few of their friends. She was never going to win that battle.

Might as well give up on that dream of being a lingerie model.

Derek was in the process of stripping down to his boxers, and all she could do was watch him from the bathroom doorway. She looked like a hot mess and he looked like a hot body. It wasn't exactly fair. All she wanted was to be a little bit tighter where things were saggy and to lose a few pounds so she didn't look like a whale on her husband's arm. Penelope didn't realize that she had a few stupid tears running down her cheeks till she felt them running off her chin. "Damn it," she muttered, swiping at her face, trying to clear away the evidence before Derek caught her.

It was tough work being a strong girl. So much so that when she did cry, it was over stupid things that shouldn't matter at all. He loved her and he didn't care what she looked like. He loved her for – well, hell, she didn't know why he loved her, only that he did. And that should have been enough to keep her afloat – but those few nagging little details that kept plaguing her just wouldn't shut the hell up.

"Well, that was an interesting dinner," Derek commented, turning down the bed and fluffing her pillows. "Your grandmother is something else."

"She's from Crazytown," Penelope said, her voice suddenly low and hoarse.

He looked up at her and asked, "Baby Girl, have you been crying? I left you alone for like ten minutes and you've gone and started crying on me again?"

"No, I –" She stopped and sighed, closing her eyes. She couldn't lie to him again. "Okay, yes, but I don't know why I'm fucking crying."

"Because you're tired and you're still healing," Derek said softly. "And Brielle came home today."

"I'm crying because I fucking got on the scale and I've put on twenty pounds since I came home from the hospital," she spit out, loathing herself for feeling so weak. "And it's not okay. Because I already had baby weight on top of being Chubby the Chubbo and now I have inactivity weight on top of all the rest of it and it's not okay. Not when you're so damn gorgeous. Some skinny twit is going to come walking along and catch your eye and –"

"Mama, what the hell are you rambling about?" he murmured, abandoning the bed in favor of her. Not that that would make her feel any better – in fact, she felt more than slightly uneasy when he came around the bed and toward her, to the point that she backed into the doorjamb. He definitely noticed that.

"Penelope," Derek said softly, trying to get her to focus on him. Well, she did just that – finally. "Stop worrying so much. I'm not going anywhere. We keep having this conversation and I'm not going anywhere and I haven't changed my mind. You're my Red Hot Mama, Baby Girl, and I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world. You've given me a family. You're beautiful and sexy, and even though I hate those slippers with a passion, I'd take you to bed and do you right now if you'd just smile for me and stop crying."

"You just want sex," she pouted.

"No, I want you," he sighed. "Even with that stupid t-shirt and those ugly slippers and your Invader Zim panties."

"Did you spy on me this morning?" she demanded.

"Only when you got dressed," he teased. "Mama, c'mon. You've had a long, hard day. Everyone has. And I want you to throw the scale away – or stop weighing yourself. Because it's only going to make you feel worse about yourself for no reason."

"I have a reason –"

"Penelope, focus," Derek insisted. "Look at me, Baby Girl." He took her hands in his, and she finally looked him in the eyes. "Did you take your pills this morning? Not the anti-depressants, the hormones. Because you know shit hits the fan when you don't."

Penelope froze for a moment; she couldn't remember if she had or not. She'd poured the juice and had been chasing Declan, trying to get him to change his shirt so she could wash the chocolate milk out of it – but she didn't remember actually taking her pills. "Shit," she muttered. "I don't think I did."

"Want me to go downstairs and check?" he asked.

"No, I just want to go to bed," she sighed. "Tomorrow will be better, right?"

"Tomorrow will always be better, Mama," he promised. "Your hands are like ice," he commented.

"Say what you like about these slippers, but they keep me from putting my cold feet all over you," she reminded him teasingly.

"You only keep me around because I'm a human space heater," Derek accused, and she couldn't help but smile at that. Mostly because it was partially true: he was a damn good source of heat.

The smile spurred him into kissing her, but it wasn't a little friendly bedtime peck. It was long, intimate, full of passion, and damn if she didn't want it to go on forever. Even as decidedly frumpy as she felt, he was managing to chase her dismal attitude away.

His hand landed on the back of her thigh, teasing the hem of the nightshirt, sliding higher till he was cupping her ass and drawing her flush to him. He broke the kiss long enough to mutter, "Damn, woman, it's been too long."

"Mmmhmm," she hummed in agreement. She almost dove back into the kiss, but instead whispered, "But we're both tired and should get some sleep before the baby wakes up."

"Parenting problems already," he groaned.

"I know, I know," she murmured, smiling. "But I'll get up with her."

"No, you're going to be sleeping," Derek said firmly. "I can handle it."

She exhaled, closing her eyes and pressing a hand to her abdomen. "Maybe we should wait a little longer before we do anything too energetic," she commented wryly. "I think I pulled something while we were making out."

He smirked a little. "Sex is good exercise," Derek teased. "Maybe when you're up to it, we can have a marathon."

"Who'd baby-sit?" she teased.

"Your dad," he replied honestly. "He understands the need for normal sex."

"I don't even want to think about what he's doing with your mom right now," she pointed out.

"He's teaching her to play Pinochle," Derek said. "They've been playing the last few nights."

"Semi-obscure French card games played by an Italian stallion and an Irish filly?" Penelope said doubtfully. "Sounds like the opening to a mystery novel to me."

"Agatha Christie, eat your heart out," Derek replied, laughing at his own joke.

She didn't protest when he gently scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed. He wasn't going too far, or she would've scolded him for trying to throw his back out by carrying her around like she didn't weigh more than a feather. Instead, she just wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, loving that she was loved.

She didn't remember much after he set her down.

Except that Derek Morgan made a wonderful pillow.


	23. Chapter 23

I still, STILL, don't own anything. Except a bunch of nail polish, striped socks, and an attitude problem.

* * *

><p>Part twenty-three:<p>

* * *

><p>April 20, 2012<br>6:42 AM EDT

"Shh," Derek murmured as he rocked Brielle in the corner of the room. He'd complained so much about having the rocking chair in there, but he'd clearly and quickly changed his tune. "Mama's still sleeping, sweetheart."

Penelope yawned and watched them through barely open eyes – he was pretty blurry, but she could tell he was at least doing it right. The baby was sucking greedily and noisily at the bottle and she could just barely make out that he was smiling. All was right with the world. "Want me to get up and take over?" she asked, smothering a yawn. "You've got to get ready for work."

"My first class isn't till ten," Derek said. "I didn't realize you were awake – did we make too much noise?"

She stretched and reached for her glasses. Once he was back in focus, she replied, "Nah, I was already awake when you got up to get her. But you were too fast for me."

"She's almost done," Derek said. "Do you want cuddles?"

"She'll probably want to go back to sleep," Penelope pointed out with a small smile. "But if she's still awake, yes, I'd like cuddle time."

Derek glanced down, then winked at her. "Oops," he said with a grin. "She's already fallen asleep. I guess you're stuck with me for cuddle time."

"Oh, I see what you just did there," Penelope laughed. "And I don't know if I approve or not."

"You don't approve of adult cuddle time?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly.

"I don't feel very sexy with my morning breath, Minnie Mouse t-shirt and fuzzy slippers," Penelope admitted. "What on earth do you see in me?"

"You're the most beautiful woman on earth," Derek replied firmly. "And you're the mother of my kids."

She paused for a moment, overcome by emotion from his simple statement. "Declan isn't even really mine," she finally choked out.

"Doesn't matter," Derek replied. "He's ours in all the ways that count. Emma, too. And this little bundle of bottle-feeding, burping, pooping joy."

"You're going to make me cry," she whispered.

"Mama, I'll tell you the same thing every morning of our lives if you need me to remind you why I love you," he assured her. "Go take your pills and I'm going to burp Brielle and put her back to bed. Do you want me to get the kids up and going?"

"No, your mom's been doing it," Penelope murmured. "Derek?"

"Huh?"

"What did I do to deserve you? I had to have done something really, really good."

"Penelope, if anyone in this relationship isn't deserving, it's definitely me," Derek said, gently resting Brielle on his chest and patting her back till she burped in her sleep. "You make me want to be a better man. I'm just trying to be as good as I can be for you, baby."

"You're getting sap all over my baby," Penelope teased very softly, her cynical side finally deserting her completely. He was the only father her children should have known, and she wasn't about to let go of him any time soon. He was hers, and she'd fight to the death to keep him.

He just grinned at her, that lop-sided sexy smile that got her all wobbly-kneed and hot and bothered. Silly boy: he knew just exactly what to do and how to do it to get her to do exactly what he wanted. So morning sex was back on the docket just like a snap. But she definitely needed to take her medicine and brush her teeth first. Nothing said 'morning' like fuzzy teeth.

She disappeared into the bathroom with a smile, liking that it stayed on her lips no matter how much she tried to force it away. It had been too long since she'd just… smiled like that. It had been too long since she'd been so baselessly, needlessly, insanely happy. Her worry over Brielle, having been shot, having been forced to recover – all of it had conspired to make her absolutely miserable. But Derek had made her smile with thoughts of things to come (no pun intended), and she could feel the change in the core of her very self as her disused facial muscles made angry noises about suddenly being reused. And she was grinning like a fucking idiot. What the hell – it was just sex and a life together forever… right? She wasn't the only girl who had that.

But she was the only girl in the world who got to keep Derek Morgan for her very own.

She suddenly felt like the Grinch – because her heart grew three (five? ten? thirty?) sizes in that moment. She had everything she'd ever wanted: someone who loved her, and a family she could love unconditionally in return. She'd never had it before, so it took getting used to once she had it, and she really hadn't thought about how fucking lucky she'd gotten.

All because of one tiny decision.

If you would have told her in 1997 when her parents had died that she would be working for the CIA by the end of the year, and in 2012, she would be married and have three children, she would have fallen on the floor, laughing her fucking ass off. She had been a college drop-out with delusions of grandeur when she'd hacked into one of the best-protected CIA databases on the planet. Fortunately for her, no one else had even come close to her programming acumen – even now, she was one of the best hackers in the world. She knew it, everyone knew it – but it was just something she did. It didn't define who she was anymore. It was just a job.

What defined her were the people she'd taken to heart and made her family.

It was a slow progression and evolution from workaholic to family woman who just happened to be damn good at the job she did. Maybe, some day, she would be free to just be who she'd forgotten she was – the person she'd locked away and thrown away the key to the prison.

That was when the smile faded.

Her brow creased and she swallowed hard, looking at the new stress lines on her face. She was about to attack herself in the mirror when he opened the door. "Are you gonna take all morning, Baby Girl? 'Cause I do have to go to work at some point," he teased.

Swallowing back her sudden pang of frustration with herself, Penelope smiled coyly and murmured, "Can you handle me, Hot Stuff? I mean, you do carry handcuffs, right?" She winked and turned away from that horrible, betraying mirror and strode toward her husband, 100% back in control.

"Are you strutting at me in those ridiculous slippers?" Derek asked, chuckling. "You look like one of those hipster fashion spreads –"

She launched at him, laughing when he caught her just before they hit the bed. "How dare you compare me to a hipster, Derek Morgan!" she giggled. "You would have had a thousand fits if you'd've seen me in my goth phase."

"Nope," he denied, his breath hot against her neck. "I would've been the first guy to take you under the bleachers, Baby Girl. You were probably the hottest girl in school."

"The most awkward, you mean," she replied, untying his lounge pants. "I was the weirdo."

"I was a jock."

"We would've been laughed right out of school," she murmured. "But it would've been worth it to fool around with THE Derek Morgan."

"I wasn't a catch in high school," he teased.

"Well, you're certainly a catch now – wait, I already caught you," she pointed out, reaching into his boxers and greedily grabbing his cock. "Don't tell me you're ready to fly the coop."

"Hell no," he grunted. "Mama, stop – we don't need to rush."

She pulled her hand out of his pants and pouted. "We always rush," she reminded him. "That's what happens when you have kids. You rush around and have quickies whenever you can get them."

He put his finger against her lips and smiled. "Motormouth, shut it," he instructed. "We've got time. And it's been a while, so let's make it a good one. Not cheap and quick."

She screwed up her face in reply, somewhere between a sneer and a pout. If they didn't go quickly, he would be able to see the damage the last few months had wreaked on her body. She didn't want him to think that he'd made a mistake in choosing her. Already. She could picture the divorce papers in her mind, always did when she felt less than secure in her place as Mrs. Morgan. She never wanted it to happen, but some part of her insisted on being fucking practical and holding on to the eventuality that he would change his mind.

"Baby Girl, stop getting all serious on me," Derek growled. "I want to make love to you, not fuck you," he tried to explain, sounding like a frustrated teenager. "There is a difference, you know – I don't think you've ever really let me in enough to know the difference. And I shouldn't be hurt by that, but I can't help it."

Her therapists had been telling her the same thing for years. She didn't know the difference between lust and love; she couldn't distinguish a line between 'just sex' and 'making love'; her heart was so fragile that she'd locked it away so it couldn't be touched. She would never have admitted it before now, but that was because Ian Doyle had made her feel things she never wanted to feel again – a sick, twisted love that could have pushed her over the edge and made her just like him. A slick, sick, jabbering psychopath with delusions of grandeur. She'd hidden herself out of a need to protect her heart, her very soul, and now she had no idea how to break the chains and set herself free again.

Derek was Doyle's polar opposite. Where Ian had been hard and cruel, Derek was loving and kind. Where roughness and torture had been the norm with Ian, Derek was gentle and patient. But she could sense his patience running out like the sifting sands of the hourglass; one grain of sand at a time, she was giving him cause to give up on ever holding her.

It was time to find the key to her heart and in a fucking hurry. Or she really was going to lose the best thing that had ever happened upon her life.

"Do you know why I didn't carry a gun for so long?" she whispered.

"No, baby," Derek replied, lifting one of her feet so he could yank off that offensively ugly slipper and fling it onto the floor. "Tell me."

"Because a gun is a man's weapon," she exhaled. "It's messy and hateful; a knife is quick and merciful if you know how to use it properly. A gun is inaccurate, sloppy. I've been shot more than once, and always by a man – but if I make a move to kill, I'm not thinking like a man. All I'm thinking about is how quickly I can be done with the killing so I can start atoning for my sins." She looked up at him, willing him to understand.

"You learned to use a gun to kill Ian Doyle," he said slowly. He was profiling her: just what she wanted him to do. "Oh god, Baby Girl –"

"I loved him, still, somewhere in here," she whispered, putting her hand over her heart in a clenched fist, hating herself more in that moment of weakness than she'd ever been able to admit, even to herself. "And I wanted him to fucking suffer for what he did to me." She exhaled weakly, feeling that anxiousness welling up in her chest yet again, relentlessly. "I wish I could say he broke me, but I broke myself and I don't know how to fix it. I can't fix it."

"Bullshit," he said very firmly. "You're too scared to –"

"I looked into the abyss and all I saw was me, looking back," she breathed. Her voice was barely louder than the exhalation. She couldn't make the words louder, couldn't make them more real than they already were to her. "I am terrified."

"Baby Girl –"

"How can you love me?" she asked, the tightness in her chest making her feel sick to her stomach. "I'm a monster."

"You are not a monster."

"I've killed people without a second thought," she contradicted.

"For the good of the mission."

She hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, but –"

"Do you feel badly afterward?"

"Sometimes."

He nodded. "Not a monster – you're only human, Penelope."

"I used to be… naïve. I used to look at the world and wonder where I fit in it."

"That's not naïve." He took off her other slipper and pitched it across the room. "We all do that."

"I stopped wondering when they took me to Cuba," she whispered. "I stopped caring. I was locked away for my own protection because I made the biggest mistake of my life. I fell in love with a bastard, I let him hurt me, I let him teach me things I never should have known. And then all I could do was live with the pain. I shut down, Derek. I wasn't me anymore." She closed her eyes, wishing he could understand. She had been a completely different woman before that mission – she'd been happy, bubbly, full of joy and mirth. Afterward, she had scars deeper than her heart. She had the brand on her hip, the scar that marred her ribcage, and the haunted paranoia which never quite left her gaze. "And Emily left the CIA and joined the FBI and met you – and I thought… maybe… maybe there were good people left in the world. There were heroes. You were my hero and I didn't even know you. She would tell me the things you did and what a good person you were and I fell in love with the idea that if things had been different, if I hadn't given Karma a back-alley handjob instead of wining and dining her, it could have been me in your arms and not Emily. You've had my heart for so long and I didn't even – I couldn't – I can't – I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Derek."

He was silent, watching her come apart at the seams. She felt him judging her, weighing her sins and her atonements against his heart. He didn't understand – how could he? How could he still love her if he knew everything she'd done?

Her life was a messy string of missions, corpses, cases, blood and suffering. She couldn't shut off the instincts that kept her fighting for her soul; she couldn't if she tried. Once upon a time, she'd had Emily to cry to when things were wrong: now she had her own tortured memories to torment her every waking moment if she allowed it.

She was broken beyond repair.

"I'm no one's hero, Mama," he said, getting her attention and holding it. "I'm just a guy doing a job and living my life – and I fucking love you, no matter what you've done or who you've been with or any of the stuff you aren't telling me. Do you hear me? You can't scare me off, Penelope."

"I scare myself," she confessed.

"Well, I'm not scared of you," Derek said firmly. "So there."

"I've done so many bad things –"

She forgot to breathe when he kissed her protests away. The words echoed in her head but she never finished the statement because he refused to let her. His lips were insistent, his tongue possessive and harsh against her teeth – this kiss was neither sweet nor languishing. It was primal, almost rough, and full of everything she had ever needed a kiss to be. She pulled back just far enough to take a deep breath but he pulled her back in for another soul-shattering kiss.

He forgave her everything she'd ever done wrong; he forgave her stumbling, her broken heart, her shattered self. Derek Morgan forgave Penelope Garcia her sins.

His love would heal her, in time, now that she knew it was true. That he really meant it.

She gave as well as she received – for the first time in her life, she opened her heart and let him in. It hurt like hell, but it was the least she could do to repay him his unconditional love. It scared her to death to love someone so very deeply as she loved him, but she jumped into the freezing abyss and felt him catch her and hold her tightly.

Each kiss opened a new door to a new world for her. His hands roamed over her, knowing her better than she knew herself, bringing her a pleasured contentment that she didn't know had existed. He nuzzled her breasts, whispered endearments against her skin, held her in a love-sick thrall. She whimpered and begged him to hold her, fuck her – love her.

"Love me," she pleaded, voice hoarse and thick with need. She needed him to prove it one more time – prove that he loved her. One more time and she would never doubt him again. One more proof and she would believe in forever and happily ever after.

"God, Baby Girl, I do," he whispered, kissing the scars that marred her abdomen. "You don't even know how much."

"Show me." It wasn't a question – it was beyond a demand. It was some kind of need, a give and take. He had to give, she had to take. That was all there was to it.

She had stripped away every shred of anything that might have hidden her; she had never been more vulnerable in her life than she was now, laying prone and naked and waiting for him to prove to her beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was worthy of unconditional love from him. If he rejected her now, it would kill her. She had unlocked the door; all he had to do was open it and hold her.

He took his time, his lips, tongue, fingers, moving over her in an erotic dance. He brought her to the edge of madness and held her there before giving her a tiny push into oblivion. Her first orgasm was almost painful in its intensity, but it left her dazed and wet with desperation for more. Her second climax burst through her like an explosion, tearing her to shreds, making her cry in pleasured agony.

His kisses slowed, bringing a languid desire that built between them as a comfort. It wasn't a wall – in fact, it was the opposite. It was something that was theirs, and only theirs: a shelter for their wounded hearts to thrive and heal in.

She'd never been so terrified or so completely overwhelmed as the moment when he made his intent to make love to her – really love her – very, very clear. But he was himself, gentle, kind Derek. And when he finally entered her, it was all she could do not to come undone. She was already crying hot, salty tears that she couldn't hold back or control. He loved her, the real her, the her that she hadn't known she'd finally unleashed. He moved, giving her reason to stop thinking, stop torturing herself, because everything in her universe suddenly revolved around him.

For the first time in her life, she let herself go completely. She met him thrust for thrust, accepted and reciprocated every kiss, every dirty little secret whispered in the heat of their passion. Her nails dug into his back, leaving scratches and bloody trails in their wake, her thighs quaked with the force of her intent to keep him right there – no, RIGHT THERE – dear god, that felt so fucking good. Her heart beat an erratic rhythm as he brought her straight back to the brink again and again. Two, three – fuck, why wasn't he coming with her?

And then he was stilling, biting down on her neck, sucking hard on her skin, smothering his cry as he came. He was so deep inside her that she felt overstuffed and content with the thought of never letting him go to work again – just so they could start every morning off like this one.

She ran her hands down his back, coming to rest on his ass. "Thank you," she whispered, her heart still thrumming unsteadily in her chest.

"Stop talking," he growled softly. "And stop crying."

"Couldn't help it," she whispered as he kissed her tears away. His lips captured hers again, this time with no semblance of sexual need – it was a soft, gentle kiss that meant love. "I'm sorry –"

He shook his head and smiled just a little. "Don't be," Derek said in a soft tone. "We all have to fight our demons sometime. It's okay."

"You've never –"

"Hey, now, stop it. I'm not going to dump on you right now," he said, carefully withdrawing from her warmth. She felt bereft without him, but he pulled her tight into his arms beneath the covers. "You've had a rough year, Baby Girl – it's only natural that you'd break at some point."

She kissed his chest and whispered, "Derek, I think that right now, right here with you, for the first time in my life, I'm NOT broken."

"You gonna be okay by yourself today?" he asked softly.

"I won't be by myself," she murmured. "Your mom will be here, and Dad's insisting on bringing me lunch and I'll have the baby –"

"You know what I mean," he sighed, kissing the top of her head.

"Mmhmm," she agreed. "I'll be fine. Today will be better than yesterday, but it won't be better than tomorrow."

"Damn, girl, no more philosophy – no wonder you're always getting down," he teased, holding her tighter as they spooned, his hands wandering possessively over her belly. "Did I ever tell you when I fell in love with you?"

"No." It was god's honest truth – she never knew what triggered it, just that he took it onto his shoulders with wild abandon.

"I was in the middle of fucking my girlfriend," he said, and she could hear the sardonic smile on his lips even though she couldn't see it. "And her phone started ringing off the damn hook. So I picked it up and some crazy woman told me to, and I quote, 'pull the fuck out and bugger off' because she needed to talk to Emily."

Penelope flushed bright red. "Oh hell," she sighed.

He nibbled on the back of her neck and growled, "Any woman with enough balls to boss me around had to be my kind of girl. Emily just laughed at me and showed me pictures of you and Emma when you sent them, and I was off and rolling – you were my favorite fantasy, knowing you were safely away where I couldn't reach. And that filthy mouth of yours – I had the word 'fuck' rolling in my head in your voice for years, Baby Girl." He paused. "No offense to Emily, but you spoiled me before we even met."

"No offense to Emily, but I think she knew what she was doing: playing us both," Penelope murmured. "She never was that upset about us getting together."

"No, she really wasn't," he agreed. "Probably because she's been half in love with your dad for years."

"Oh, god, don't even go down that road," Penelope groaned. "I don't even want to think about that."

He chuckled and whispered, "So, what do you want to do tonight?"

"Besides making love again?" she supplied in a soft, warm breath. "I hadn't really planned that far ahead. I didn't want to assume that you wouldn't be out on a case."

"How about I bring home something delicious for dinner and you and I will lock ourselves in here and watch a movie?"

"We're horrible parents," she sighed.

"Nah, we're just taking advantage of having Momma around," he said softly. "Besides, you're still recovering from all kinds of trauma and –"

She rolled over and socked him in the gut. "You shut it," Penelope ordered. "I'm fit as I ever was. I'm fat but I could still take you."

He winced and rubbed his abdomen. "Woman, I didn't mean it like that, and I know you could kick my ass in a fair fight," he assured her. "Maybe you should be teaching an offensive defense course at the Academy. In fact, I'm going to talk to the Director about it. That stiletto kill technique would go over well with most of the female agents, I'm sure."

She poked him in the ribs. "Not funny."

"I was being serious. I can teach all the self-defense classes in the world, but you and Emily know how to put all of that to good use and come out the other side in one piece," he pointed out.

"I couldn't do anything to Ian Doyle," she reminded him.

His hand splayed over her left breast, covering her heart. "Because you still loved him somewhere in here," he reminded her, using her words from before. "No one could ever blame you for faltering then."

"You didn't take the shot," she reminded him. "You stood there and didn't –"

"Because I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I missed," he interjected. "I was already in love with you and I was just as scared as you were. I couldn't do it."

"Promise me something?" she whispered, leaning in and pressing her forehead to his.

"Anything."

"If we're ever in that situation again, you will take the fucking shot," she said. "I don't want to admit to anyone I've married a cowardly sap."

He grinned and kissed her, laughing as she giggled at his reaction. "Promise, Baby Girl," he assured her. "Now, will you promise me something?"

"Absolutely." She put her trust completely in his hands.

"If the situation is reversed –"

"Honey, I'd be all over that like white on rice," she said, cracking a wicked, toothful grin. "The unsub wouldn't know what hit them. My aim with a gun isn't so great – but I can throw a knife with 98% accuracy from fifty feet."

"Mama, you are one of a kind –"

"I should hope so," she commented.

"And you are one bad-ass chick."

She smiled; beamed, actually. It was the best fucking compliment she'd ever gotten, and the only one that mattered.


	24. Chapter 24

I still don't own anything – except this box of cold medicine. We'll blame it all on the medicine. :D

* * *

><p>Part twenty-four:<p>

* * *

><p>May 23, 2012<br>8:27 PM EDT

Brielle would not stop crying. She'd been fed, been burped, been walked around… Hell – Penelope had even thrown everyone into the car and driven around for an hour out of sheer desperation. The baby would not shut. The. Fuck. Up. And it was just about to send Penelope off the deep end.

She'd been all alone with the kids for a week, doing her best to keep things moving at a steady, normal pace. Fran had gone back to Chicago, and the rest of the BAU team had been called to fucking Minnesota on a case, and she had no one but Will to fall back on. His patience was wearing thin with them, though, she knew. She was supposed to be able to cope with this mess – she was 1derwoman, right? Computer goddess, mother of the fucking year – clearly not.

At her wit's end, she put Brielle in her crib and closed the door. She retreated to her bedroom and flung herself face down on the bed, screaming into the pillows and blankets until she passed out from lack of breath. It was the worst day of her fucking life and she was likely going deaf from the screaming baby.

Even Declan and Emma were pissed off.

For god's sake, she'd even called the doctor's office in tears, earlier, talking to the nurse, who assured her that it was normal for babies to cry.

NOT FOR FUCKING EIGHT HOURS STRAIGHT.

Penelope finally grabbed her phone out of desperation and dialed JJ. "HELP," she gasped when the other woman picked up. "Brielle won't stop crying. I don't know what to do – the doctor's office said it's normal and she's been screaming for hours and hours and I – HELP, JJ, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD –"

"Whoa, Penelope – slow down," JJ said. "I can't understand what you're saying. Take a deep breath and try to calm down."

Penelope did as JJ asked: she took an enormous breath, then let it out – as Brielle screamed with even more righteous fury in the other room. "My baby won't shut the fuck up," Penelope ground out through clenched teeth. "I've done everything I can think of – and everything I've been able to look up online – and she hasn't stopped screaming since she woke up this morning. I'm losing my mind and Emma and Declan are about ready to smother her. Come to think of it, I'm getting to that point, myself."

"Is it upset screaming or sick screaming?"

"It's not colic," Penelope sighed. "Or acid reflux – she's been getting her meds. That's why I called the doctor's office. I thought it could be something like that. But I've done everything they said to do and she just gets redder in the face and screams more. I don't even know how she's been doing this for eight hours straight. I thought there was a point where they stopped and fell over from exhaustion! Emma always did –"

"Maybe she misses her Daddy," JJ suggested gently. "Or her Grandpa? I mean, they've been there almost every day since she was born. Until now."

"Right, but they can't exactly just come home," Penelope muttered. "JJ – I can't deal with this. I'm the worst mother on the planet right now."

"What the hell are you even talking about?" JJ asked. "You've done everything in your power to make your daughter feel better: that's called being an excellent mother. Sure, she's still pissed off and screaming – yes, I can hear her in the background – but you've done everything you can do, short of taking her to the hospital and asking them to sedate her or put a muzzle on her. So stop worrying: shit happens. Want me to call Will and have him pick up Emma and Declan so they can try to get some sleep before school?"

"Will hates me right now," Penelope muttered.

"No, he just didn't realize you'd be having such a rough week," JJ countered. "Let me do this little thing and make it easier on you, okay? And you should call Derek. He might be able to help."

"What is he going to do from halfway across the country?" Penelope scoffed tiredly. "I'm so damn tired, JJ. I don't even know how I thought I was going to be able to handle this by myself. God knows what's going to happen when I go back to work."

"Just call him," JJ insisted. "I'll call Will and get him over there to get Emma and Declan. Stop worrying so much and just focus, okay? We're a family, remember? Family protects and helps its own. Call Derek."

Penelope sighed when the call ended and she pressed the buttons for Derek's cell. If it was possible, Brielle's screams got even more intense. She wanted nothing more than to put earplugs in and ignore the noise, but that was leading to even more guilty feelings of inadequacy.

"Hey, Baby Girl –"

"YOUR DAUGHTER WON'T STOP SCREAMING," Penelope shouted into the phone. She was so far beyond exasperation that it wasn't even funny.

"Whoa, whoa, Baby Girl, pump those brakes and stop yelling –"

She did the next best thing: she started crying. Loud, noisy sobs. Great, now he was going to think that she was doing nothing but encouraging Brielle's inner bratling.

"Mama – Penelope – sweetheart," he sighed into her ear. "C'mon, baby, tell me what's going on. Please stop crying, Baby Girl – I can't be there to kiss it and make it better right now."

She managed to gasp out, "The baby won't stop screaming. For hours. And hours. There's nothing wrong with her."

"Sure there is," Derek said, his voice soft and rough at the same time. "Put me on speaker and take the phone into her room, okay? Don't even think about being disobedient, sweetness, or your punishment will be that baby screaming all night long."

Penelope did as he asked, so out of her mind with exhaustion, worry, and frustration that she couldn't think of another possible solution to the issue at hand. Once the phone was set down on the dresser, she shouted over the crying, "You're on –"

The next thing she knew, he was singing 'Puff the Magic Dragon' in that adorable, off-key singing voice of his, and Brielle's screams slowed into hiccupping baby sobs that showed she was calming down. By the time Derek finished the song, the baby was passed the fuck out from sheer exhaustion.

And Penelope was fucking pissed as hell. "You mean to tell me that I could've just called you and you'd sing her to fucking sleep – at any point today?" she hissed into the phone. "Are you even fucking kidding me?"

"She's all kinds of out of sorts, I'm sure, because Rossi and I aren't there," he reasoned calmly. "We've been part of her routine for –"

"Yeah, well, I'm her MOTHER," Penelope hissed, "and I couldn't do a damn thing. How do you think that makes me feel? How the hell do you think I feel right now? Worthless and pissed."

"Sweetheart –"

"No, don't you dare 'sweetheart' me," she said, leaving the room and returning to her bedroom. "I'm angry and I'm exhausted and you can't just fucking placate me from across the country like you can our daughter. Got it?"

"I know," he muttered. "You gonna get some rest now? I've got to get back to work –"

"Yeah, I know," she sighed.

"I'm going on a stakeout tonight," he said. "You can't call unless there's an emergency, Penelope. I need to know that you're okay."

"I'm fine," she said in a clipped tone. "I'm sorry I interrupted you."

"Mama –"

"Go catch the bad guy and come home," she ordered. "So I don't have to live through this day again."

"Baby, are we okay?" he asked.

"I'm going to bed," she answered evasively. "Have a good night."

"Penelope, damn it, answer me."

"I'm still pissed," she muttered. "Leave it alone. Or I'll be forced to kick your ass."

He sighed. "Okay," Derek agreed, "I'll back off."

She was still angry – more at herself than anything else – but she murmured, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Baby Girl," he replied. "Be good."

She hung up and curled up on the bed, too tired and upset to make an effort to do anything. She heard Will let himself in and head up the stairs but she didn't make a move till he knocked on the door and said, "Pen, you decent?"

"Yeah," she sighed, rolling over and at least attempting to sit up.

He opened the door and said, "JJ called and said you needed me to take the kids –"

"Derek got Brielle to shut up," she sighed, flopping back onto the pillows. "I think we're okay. Sorry I dragged you guys out – I know it's past Henry's bedtime."

"No worries," Will said, smiling a little. "I brought you some hot chocolate." He held up a thermos. "Thought you might need it after today. And Henry and I were making some anyway."

"Thank you," she said. It sounded hollow and not really sincere. But she was so tired everything was bound to sound like that. "I –"

"JJ will never tell you this, but I will," Will interrupted her. "What happened to you today? It happened to me the first couple of weeks after JJ went back to work. Henry was inconsolable without his Mama. So I know how it feels to be the heel, hon. It gets better. And that little girl of yours is still trying to figure out how she belongs in this mess of a world – and your family."

Penelope sighed, taking her glasses off and running her hands over her face. "I can't deal with another day like today," she admitted. "I feel like I'm going right out of my mind and I'm ready to go crawling out of my skin – and all I want is Derek to be home so I can hand over the reins and walk away for a few minutes."

"That's perfectly understandable," Will assured her. He put the thermos on the bedside table and sat down beside her on the bed.

"It's past Henry's bedtime," she reminded him with a sigh. "You don't need to be here listening to me being a boob."

"Henry's reading a bedtime story to Declan," Will said. "So you've got time to talk – and you're not being a boob. You're upset. There's a huge difference. Now, JJ has a tendency to be a boob when she's upset. The woman has a dramatic streak a mile wide –"

"I'll tell her you said so," Penelope joked wanly. "I'm sorry, I just – "

"Don't apologize," Will said firmly, pulling her into a hug. "You need to cry? Do it now so the kids don't see it. They see crying and it's like a shark with blood in the water."

She cried silently for a few minutes, then said, "What's going to happen when I go back to work? I just – I can't even plan for tomorrow."

Will sighed a little. "Now, I thought we all already talked about this –"

"I don't want to just dump on you because JJ and I work together – she doesn't even really like me," Penelope protested.

"Wanna make a bet?" Will asked, laughing. "JJ loves the crap out of you and your kids. She's just bad at showing it because you two got off to kind of a shaky start. She's kind of convinced you think she's a bitch."

"No way," Penelope mumbled, swiping at her eyes. "She's a godsend. I'm sorry – I –"

"So the plan's still on, then? I'll be the BAU baby-sitting service and after-school stop off," Will said with a grin. "And when everyone's out of town, I'll be the cool uncle and let 'em stay up and eat candy."

"Don't you dare," Penelope said. "That isn't even funny."

He winked at her – or she assumed he winked. It was all kind of blurry without her glasses. "Just kidding, kiddo."

"Don't call me kiddo," she grumbled.

"Feel any better?" Will asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she sighed. "Thanks. I probably ought to try to sleep before she wakes up again."

"And you should call Derek whenever things get hairy again," Will pointed out. "Brielle is very much a Mommy's girl, but sometimes, all she'll want is her Daddy. It happens. It's okay."

Penelope nodded and said, "Better get Henry home and to bed – thanks for the hot chocolate and the pep talk."

"Call me if you need anything," he said. "Seriously, we're like the home guard here – gotta buck each other up while we wait for the heroes to get home and pass out."

She sighed and her frown deepened. "I chose this life for me and the kids – never knowing when Derek would be home, never knowing if something would happen and I wouldn't be home on top of it. And now I really feel like a crappy mom."

Will shook his head. "Nope. You don't get to have everything you ever wanted, Pen – you pick what you want most and deal with the other consequences later. I was a detective in New Orleans – and I picked JJ and Henry over my job. Now, I won't say that it hasn't been rocky, and I won't say that being a stay-at-home-Dad isn't a pain in the fuckin' ass sometimes – but I chose JJ and Henry. Everything that happens after that is what happens. You chose Derek and your kids – and now you have to just hang on tight and take the ride that comes with it. You wouldn't give up Declan or Brielle for anything, would you?"

"No, never," Penelope whispered.

"So you made the right choice in coming here after Doyle died, yeah? You got those two awesome kids –"

"Brielle isn't so awesome right now," Penelope muttered.

"Yeah, she is – she just wanted her Daddy," Will reminded her gently. "That little girl is going to grow up to be just as smart as her Mama and just as stupid as her Daddy."

A tiny grin escaped Penelope's lips. "He is kind of a caveman, isn't he?" she asked with a sigh. "I've got to remind him that he can't just go running after unsubs now that he's a family man – he might get killed, and where would that leave us?"

Will smirked. "Yeah, well, shit happens, right?"

Her smile disappeared again. "Right – you should really get Henry home or he's going to be cranky all day tomorrow."

"I can take Emma and Declan to school tomorrow if you want," Will volunteered. "So you can sleep in."

"I can't sleep when Derek isn't home," she admitted. "That's part of why I'm so damn tired. I'm not sleeping worth shit."

"All the more reason for you to try," Will replied cheerfully. "So I'll pick the kids up at 6:30 and make sure they have breakfast and lunch. You just try to get some rest and chill out. Tomorrow will be better. I promise."

She nodded and hugged him. "Thanks, Will."

* * *

><p>May 24, 2012<br>4:13 AM EDT

The worst feeling in the world was when she couldn't keep her eyes open but she couldn't sleep either. It made her feel like her eyes were rolling in the back of her head and she got dizzy and sick to her stomach even though she had no visual frame of reference to blame for the seasick feeling. It usually triggered a migraine, but by that point, she was so tired that the exhaustion was probably the headache trigger.

She'd slept a little bit before Brielle woke up at three for her bottle. But since then, she'd been stuck in some endless hell of not being able to fall back into a stupor. It was unpleasant in the extreme.

She was about to give up and grab the laptop for some early morning gaming when her cell started ringing. Penelope rolled over with a groan, fumbling for her glasses so she could see the phone in the low light. She flipped on the light, wincing and wishing she hadn't done that. She thumbed the touchscreen and lifted it to her ear. "Hot Stuff, it's four in the morning…" she whined.

"I needed to hear your voice," Derek said, his voice low.

She blinked away the sleep from her eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Mama –"

"Derek, what's wrong? You sound –"

"We got the guy," he said softly. "But we had a couple of… incidents."

"What kind of 'incidents'?" Penelope demanded.

"Ah, well –" He paused, hissing a little in pain. "Yeah, Emily's getting glass pulled out of her shoulder and I'm getting stitches."

She bolted straight upright. "What?"

"We're okay," he was quick to assure her. "Emily went through a glass door and I kind of got shot. It's just a graze, really –"

"What the fuck?" Penelope demanded. "Seriously, what the FUCK, Derek?"

"Baby Girl… it wasn't exactly avoidable."

"You said you were on a stakeout –"

"Yeah, and the guy was gonna kill another girl," he muttered. "So we intervened. The girl's okay-ish, Emily's a couple of beds over, bitching about how much getting glass pulled out of you hurts, and I'm getting stitches because the dipshit tried to shoot me in the leg. By the way, Rossi and Hotch already read us the riot act, so you can save it, Mama. I just wanted to hear your voice because you were so damn mad earlier. Are you still mad?"

She sighed. "Are you really okay, dumbass, or am I going to have to duct tape you into a prison of bubblewrap for a while?"

"I'm fine – just a graze," he promised. "You didn't answer my question."

She thought about it for a moment. "I'm not sure I'm finished being angry, especially now that you've told me that you and Em went out and had a fucking party without me," she grumbled. "But I'm not mad about the screaming baby thing anymore. How's that?"

"So no angry pity sex for me?" Derek teased.

"Oh, just give me a few minutes to work up a righteous ire – what the hell were you thinking, Derek? Did you even have Kevlar on?"

"Maybe," he hedged.

"You fucking idiot."

He sighed. "Sweetheart –"

"No, Derek, no sweetheart and no sex," she snapped, hanging up.

The dull throbbing in her head was suddenly kicked up about a hundred notches. It was all she could do not to run to the bathroom and puke her guts up.

Yay, migraine.

* * *

><p>May 24, 2012<br>1:03 PM EDT

The baby was crying again: she probably needed another diaper change.

Penelope turned her head and saw stars, then gave up. She couldn't even open her eyes because the little bit of light coming through the closed blinds hurt so badly that she couldn't breathe. She'd stumbled around all day, changing diapers and making bottles, but she couldn't do it anymore. Her head hurt too much, even after she took pills for the migraine.

She'd finally slept, but only because she couldn't do anything else.

Brielle whimpered and cried in the other room and Penelope tried to lift herself up on shaking arms, but she collapsed back onto the mattress when her elbows gave out under her weight. "Fuck," she exhaled weakly. "Hold on, sweetie, Mama's coming," she called out as loudly as she could, the words echoing like a roar in her ears. "Mama's coming," she repeated, gritting her teeth in determination.

It took a couple of minutes but she finally made it to her feet and she stumbled to the nursery with her eyes closed. The pain in her head increased tenfold when she opened her eyes and checked the baby's diaper. One change later, Penelope patted her daughter's belly and snapped up her onesie.

And slid to the floor in agony.

She didn't know how long she laid on the floor, her face scratched by the carpet. All she knew was that she was miserable. Another fitful sleep. Another diaper change. Another faceplant on the carpet.

"Mama, what are you doing?" Derek asked, jarring her from sleep.

Her eyelids opened, letting in way too much light. She groaned and closed her eyes again. "Riding the carpet ship," she mumbled. "Migraine. Bad one."

"Baby –"

"No, no 'baby'," she mumbled into the plush, scratchy carpet. "I managed by myself before. I don't need your help." Brielle squeaked, then started fussing. Penelope sighed and tried to push herself up from the floor, but ended up giving up before she really got started.

The next thing she knew, she was off the floor and moving. The bed, with its soft sheets and warm blankets, felt so good after the hardness of the floor, and she settled onto it and moaned in appreciation. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple and murmured, "I'll be back once I've taken care of Little Miss."

She slipped back into groggy sleep only waking up when she smelled clean baby skin and felt Brielle sucking on her arm. "Hey, princess," Penelope whispered, kissing Brielle's head and smiling a little. "Did Daddy bring you in here?"

The bed shifted and Derek kissed her forehead. "You need more pills, baby?"

"Can't take more," she sighed. She struggled to open her eyes and choked back the nausea. "What time is it?"

"About three – Will's going to bring the kids home," Derek said softly. "How's your head?"

"Not so good."

"Well, I'll do my best to keep everyone quiet tonight," Derek promised, "and you can rest."

"I'm still mad at you," she groused. "Don't forget that we're fighting because you're stupid and reckless and – ugh, I'm going to barf." Just when she thought she couldn't move unassisted, she all but flew into the bathroom to toss her cookies. He followed her, holding her hair back with one hand while she threw up, holding Brielle in the other arm.

"I'm sorry, babe," he said softly.

Eventually, he helped her back into bed. Yeah, they were still fighting and he was still stupid and reckless and she was stubborn and bitchy, but they still had each other. Something she was very glad of as he cradled two of his three best girls in his arms and kept them safe from all harm real and imagined.


	25. Chapter 25

Yup, you know the drill: I still don't own anything.

* * *

><p>Part twenty-five:<p>

* * *

><p>May 25, 2012<br>5:12 PM EDT

"Hey, stop it," Penelope ordered. "Fingers out of the pie dough."

"But I'm hungry," Emma whined. "And you give us the trimmings anyway –"

Penelope sighed. "I only made enough crust for two pies," she said, her temper being tested. "And both are for dinner, so get your fingers out – EMMA!"

"No fair," Emma pouted.

"Go do your homework," Penelope sighed.

"What's going on?" Derek asked as he came in the front door to chaos.

"MOM'S BEING MEAN," Emma shouted, storming upstairs and slamming the door.

Penelope rolled her eyes and sighed as she looked over at Brielle, who was sitting in her bouncy seat on the countertop, burbling and sucking on her fingers. "At least you'll back me up, right?" Penelope teased, leaning over to kiss the baby before she grabbed the rolling pin to attack the dough on the counter.

"What happened?" Derek asked as he came into the kitchen, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling them up. "Emma's pretty pissed."

"Emma just wants to eat all the pie crust," Penelope sighed. "And there isn't enough, so she can go stew in her room."

"Why are you even baking?" Derek asked. "We're going out –"

"Excuse me, but WE'RE not doing anything," Penelope said, waving the flour-coated rolling pin in his face. "I'm still not speaking to you and I'm not fucking you, either. YOU have plans, but I'M spending the night in, making spinach and feta pie and a peach pie. And even if we weren't fighting, who the hell would watch the kids so we could go out anyway?"

"You're talking an awful lot for not speaking to me," he commented dryly, leaning down and kissing Brielle's forehead. "Hi, Little Miss – your Mama's being silly again, isn't she?" he asked in a teasing voice that made the baby squeal. "And Hotch's sister-in-law was going to take all the kids tonight so we can go out as a team."

Penelope huffed. "I'm not part of the team at the moment," she said, carefully draping the crust over a pie plate. "So you go right ahead and go have fun – the kids and I will enjoy a quiet dinner and watch a movie."

Derek scowled at her, then grabbed her hips and yanked her back against him. "You're gonna put on something sexy and we're going to pretend that everything is okay," he growled, nibbling on her neck. "Because you can't stay at home forever, Mrs. Morgan."

"Wanna make a bet?" Penelope challenged. "I'm pissed at you. I'm not going out and ending up watching you shake your ass with some twit at the bar. No, thank you."

"It's just drinks, Baby Girl."

"We're fighting."

"You're fighting – I already apologized."

"Apologies don't make it better," she said, trying to ignore how good it felt to have him pressed so close to her. "You could've been killed and you just want to blow it off like it's not going to happen again." She poured the spinach and feta filling out of a bowl and smoothed the top of the pie with her spatula. "So forgive me for being pissed off."

"Your mom is kinda dumb," Derek commented to Brielle who stopped sucking on her fingers and started making fussy noises. "C'mere, Little Miss," he said, releasing Penelope so he could get the baby out of her seat. "Let's go change your diaper and put you in a nice clean outfit – so Auntie Jess doesn't have to –"

"I'm not going out," Penelope called after him as she prepped the second pie. "So don't worry about getting her changed."

"Mama is being stubborn again," Derek said loudly from the stairs. "It's about time Daddy taught her a lesson, isn't it, Princess?"

"Not funny, Derek," Penelope shouted back.

"MOOOOOOM," Emma whined from upstairs. "Why can't we go to Jessica's? Derek said –"

"Oh for the love of GOD," Penelope grunted. "Stop whining at me, Emma."

"You know, Baby Girl, if you just say yes to going out, all of this will go away," Derek promised on a shout.

"I wish you all would go away sometimes, but that hasn't happened," she replied snarkily.

"Put the pies in the fridge, Baby," Derek insisted from upstairs. "We'll eat 'em tomorrow –"

"Yeah, Mom!" Declan chimed in finally.

Three against one – the odds were definitely not in her favor. She sighed and covered the pies with cling film and put them in the fridge: overnight wouldn't hurt them. She didn't really want to go out, but if it meant a night off, maybe she could live with it?

When she came out of the kitchen, Derek was standing at the top of the stairs with Brielle in his arms and a smirk on his lips. "Took you long enough, Mama," he commented.

She pointed at him, scowling. "You're still on my shit list," she said in as firm of a tone as she could muster.

"Well, I'll just have to do something to get off that list, now, won't I?" he teased with a lascivious grin on his lips. "You ready for that, Penelope?" He said it like a challenge.

Oh, yes, she was definitely up for resisting his 'charm'. "Good luck with that, asshole," she said, taking the stairs two at a time, brushing past him without pause. This was going to be fun.

This was going to be INCREDIBLY fun.

* * *

><p>May 25, 2012<br>7:37 PM EDT

"Are you sure you should be drinking, Sugar Tits?" Penelope asked, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you on painkillers?"

Emily scoffed and threw back a shot of vodka. "Ibuprofin, Baby Girl," she said. "And it's just a flesh wound."

"I wish you and Derek would stop saying that," Penelope grumbled.

Emily pulled off her jacket and sat down on the barstool nearest her friend. "It's true – I just got a bunch of glass in my arm," she said, showing off her bandages in her tank top. "No darts for me tonight – just drinking and maybe a ride home with some hot guy packing heat."

"Don't look at my dad when you say that," Penelope advised, swishing her wine around in its glass without really drinking any. "I might have to hurt you."

Emily grinned at her. "When did we stop talking, BG? I mean… we talk, but not like we used to."

"Life got in the way," Penelope said very softly. "Derek got in the way."

"Beers around," Derek said, setting down a pitcher and some mugs. "You want anything else, Mama?"

Penelope gave him a frosty look and turned her attention back to Emily, effectively cutting him off. "We should do a spa day with JJ sometime," she commented. "It would be good for morale, I think –"

"Hey, we're here!" JJ announced, rushing up and helping herself to the beer. She hugged Emily, then hugged Penelope, too. "Anyone up for darts?"

Will rolled his eyes and moved to Penelope's side. "You okay?" he asked.

She smiled up at him and replied, "Absolutely – thanks for your help the other night." She drew him down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "MY HERO," Penelope said pointedly, earning a glare from Derek. "You can share my wine, if you want –"

"I'll take you up on that, Kitten," Rossi said as he joined the group. "Sorry, I had to take a phonecall with one of the ex-wives that can't stand me."

"Where's Hotch?" Emily asked, chuckling as she poured herself a mug of beer. "Did he get lost on the way over from the office or what?"

Penelope kicked her under the table. "So, the case was nasty?" she inquired.

"We definitely could have used your skills," JJ said. "Most of the time, we were chasing our tails, but it's mostly because Lynch kept screwing up and sending us in the wrong direction. The man has no intuition and no talent. I don't even know why they keep him."

"I thought he quit," Penelope mused.

"Oh, no, he's currently polluting your office with Cheetos crumbs and Mountain Dew," Emily said, wrinkling her nose. "And he's back to hitting on me, which is just disturbing."

"Maybe you should shoot him and put him out of his misery," Will said jokingly, winking at Penelope.

"Good idea," Penelope replied cheerfully. She caught Derek staring at her and smirked inwardly before she drained her glass of wine. "So, darts then?" she inquired. "I could use some practice – it's been a while."

"Shit, I'm out," Emily pouted. "I guess that means more shots!"

Reid sauntered up, Hotch not far behind. "You started without us," Reid accused.

Derek slammed a mojito down in front of Penelope. "Drink up," he grunted.

She raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I'm taking Prentiss dancing," Derek said firmly. "So go throw your darts and drink the mojito you wanted but didn't ask for because you've got a stick up your ass and you want to act like a fucking priss."

"Whoa," Emily said, "I'm not even touching that with a ten foot pole. And I'm not dancing with you," she added for good measure, glaring at Derek.

"Darts," JJ said, grabbing Penelope's elbow and dragging her from the table. "What's up between you two?" she asked quietly as she grabbed three darts and handed them to Penelope, then got three more for herself.

"We're having a fight, but he claims not to be fighting – till now," Penelope said with a tiny smirk. "Once he admits that he's a stupid idiot for taking such huge risks, I'll let him off the hook. Till then, he's not getting any and I'm going to punish him in every way possible."

JJ threw first. "Sounds… very you," she commented.

"Meaning what?" Penelope inquired, taking her turn and missing by a mile. Focus. She needed to focus. On anything but her glowering husband who was nursing a beer like a wounded bear.

"Meaning you're being slightly unreasonable," JJ said. "Which is okay sometimes, but he didn't tell you the truth about what happened because he didn't want you to worry. They weren't on a stakeout. He and Prentiss went in with minimal backup to flush the guy out." She paused, then said, "So you can cut Derek a little slack, okay?"

Penelope glanced over at him and sighed. "I kind of was hoping for a real fight, so we could have really hot make-up sex," she admitted, "but he just isn't rising to the bait."

JJ chuckled. "Well, you should do something more drastic, then."

"Maybe I should dance with Will," Penelope said with a snicker. "That might get Bonehead's attention."

"Hey, leave my fiancé out of it," JJ said.

It took Penelope a moment, but then she squealed. "Congratulations!" she shrieked, grabbing JJ in an overly enthusiastic hug. "Oh my goodness!"

JJ smiled and blushed. "Yeah," she agreed. "He asked the question before we left the house. Not exactly romantic, but – we can't all have roses and violins, right?" She held up her hand and let Penelope squeal over the simple diamond ring.

"What's going on?" Reid inquired, wandering over with a glass of rum and coke in one hand.

"Will and JJ are getting married!" Penelope cried.

"Finally?" Reid asked.

"Oh, shut up, genius," Penelope groused, pressing her remaining dart into his hand. "You take my last turn – I have to run to the loo." She headed to the restroom and did what needed doing, then took a moment and primped in front of the mirror. She wasn't entirely cruel – she was just going to play Derek and get him jealous and riled up within an inch of his sanity before she took him to bed and rocked the house to its foundation.

Mama was a little horny and she didn't want to back down and pretend that she'd lost the larger battle. She just wanted to have an excuse to unleash some of that excess energy that was coiling in her belly. So she'd worn her best strutting boots and a sexy wrap dress – and no panties with her silk stockings and garter belt. He wouldn't know what hit him.

She headed back into the main room, knowing that she'd have to fend off a few random guys along the way. She smiled sweetly as she took her seat back at the table, following Emily's gaze to the corner where Derek was dancing with some –

Penelope grabbed the mojito and chugged it. "So much for marriage being sacred," she muttered, earning a sympathetic pat on the arm from Emily.

"You want me to hit him?" Hotch inquired.

"Nope," Penelope said. "Let him make an ass out of himself." She smiled and pulled off her rings. "Two can play this game," she commented, putting the rings in her purse and slipping from the stool to make her way to the bar.

Just as she suspected: the bartop was full of men who not only wanted to buy her drinks, but also wanted to bed her. It was the boots – or her enormous rack. Either way, she found someone who bought her another glass of wine and took her out onto the dance floor.

It wasn't so much that she didn't dance as much as that she didn't dance in public. Dirty dancing in her underwear was entirely different from being in front of people, tearing up the dance floor. And as soon as she felt hands on her ass, she was reminded very strongly of why she didn't –

"Get your fucking hands off of my wife," Derek snarled, grabbing her elbow and yanking her out of the man's grasp. "Penelope –"

"Don't touch me," she muttered. "You dance with the hussies and what, I'm supposed to just –"

He kissed her, effectively shutting her up. She didn't mind Derek's hands on her ass, cupping and squeezing, making no bones about her being his territory. As soon as he let her breathe again, she reached up and slapped him. She knew she was playing with fire, but she liked the simmering burn in his eyes when his lips crashed against hers again.

"Isn't that adorable?" they heard Emily cry. "I'm buying the next round – because Penelope always gets what she wants in the end!"

"You did that on purpose?" Derek asked, slightly incredulous.

She put her rings back on and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'm talking to you now," she murmured. "But only so you admit that you need to stop taking so many risks." She threaded her fingers with his and pulled him to the table. "And I'll dance with you if it keeps you from grinding against barely legal bitches who can't appreciate you."

"You're all I need," he said.

"Aww, that's so… disgusting," Emily commented. "What are you bitches drinking?"

"We're going home," Derek said.

"Time to rock the casbah?" Hotch asked with a smirk.

Penelope snickered. "I'm pretty sure we're going to break the bed tonight," she said sweetly.

Rossi choked on his wine. "I never want to hear anything like that again," he croaked.

Penelope decided to throw her father a bone. "Maybe you should take Emily home," she said. "She's clearly had enough to drink –"

Emily snickered. "Right, BG – PG – PM." She facepalmed. "Yup, too much already –"

"I knew you'd had enough when you started doing tequila shooters," Penelope said. "Dad, take her home and put her to bed."

"Are we breaking up already?" Reid asked. "It's not even nine –"

"We have to get the kids," Derek reminded Penelope.

"We'll take them for the night," JJ volunteered. "You guys go on ahead."

"No, no," Penelope said, "you and Will just got engaged –"

Will grinned at her and winked. "We've got to practice for when we have a house full of kids," he teased, putting his arms around JJ's waist. "Go ahead. Your kids are safe with us."

"Are you sure?" Penelope asked worriedly. "We can take Brielle home and –"

"Pen," JJ said with a smile, "go home and get freaky with your husband. We've got this. I promise. And if something goes wrong, I will call – your dad. Okay?"

"C'mon," Derek wheedled, grabbing her around the waist and hugging her tight, pressing against her butt and breathing lightly on the side of her neck. "One night isn't going to hurt anything."

Penelope frowned, then sighed. "Okay, well –"

"Go get freaky," Emily ordered, finishing off the pitcher of beer with a flourish. "And then take a couple aspirin and call Reid in the morning." She giggled at her own joke – a clear sign that she'd had way too much to drink.

Rossi rolled his eyes and grabbed Emily's jacket. "C'mon, kiddo, it's definitely time for you to go home," he said. "Are you sure you didn't take anything stronger than Advil?"

"Only percoset," Emily said cheerfully, hopping down from her stool and swaying. She grinned over at Rossi and gestured for her jacket – which she put on backwards. "Whoopsie," she said, laughing.

"Good luck," Derek said pointedly to Rossi. "See you in the morning."

"Not too early," Penelope added with a smirk.

Rossi just shook his head and sighed – not at all indulgently.

"Penny's gonna get schtupped," Emily giggled.

Penelope rolled her eyes and said, "You're going to get a very rude phonecall in the morning when you're heaving." It wasn't an idle threat, either: she would do it.

"God, remember the good old days?" Emily asked, spinning around and laughing as Rossi caught her in his arms. "We'd drink a whole bottle of tequila and do target practice – and my Baby Girl would never fucking miss, not even drunk off her ass!" She laughed and swayed in Rossi's arms. "Yeah, time to go home now before I get nostalgic and cry and stuff…"

Penelope pinched the bridge of her nose and said, "I have a headache."

Derek smirked and nuzzled her neck. "Let's go home and have target practice, baby," he teased.

She rolled her eyes and blushed.


	26. Chapter 26

I still don't own a damn thing to do with Criminal Minds.

I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I've been having major issues with my night job all week (in the form of needing a new shopping cart), so I've been programming till my eyeballs bled. And crying. A lot. And stress eating. And more programming. But the damn thing is finally done so I can focus on other things for a while – all other job-related projects aside, that is. Owning your own business can suck at times.

* * *

><p>Part twenty-six:<p>

* * *

><p>They walked to the SUV hand in hand, Derek's thumb making lazy, intense circles on the back of her hand. "You do take too many risks," she said softly.<p>

"Look who's talking," he replied, chuckling softly. "Miss 'I can hit anything with a knife at fifty feet, while drunk and falling over'.

"Oh, I take risks all right," Penelope replied, smirking evilly. "It's kind of windy tonight – not the best evening to be going commando in a dress."

His jaw dropped and he stared at her like he'd just swallowed a fly. "You're not wearing panties and you just let some asshole feel you up?" Derek demanded. "What the FUCK were you thinking, Penelope?"

"That you'd lay off the teeny-boppers, swoop in, and carry me to the ladies' room to have your wicked way with me," she said cheerfully. "Maybe I didn't think it through very well – you only did two out of three. Not to say that two out of three isn't bad, but I'm a big girl and I can protect myself from men, I mostly just wanted you to get away from those bitches and fuck me. Your WIFE." The cheer disappeared from her voice and she felt small and betrayed again. Hadn't they just spent hours the other day telling each other how much they meant to one another?

"Mama, I –"

She put her finger against his lips. "I could understand it if you danced with Em. Or JJ. But not total strangers who wear less than two scraps of clothes and want nothing more than to take you home and get off like fucking you is some kind of a trophy."

He sighed. "You clearly weren't interested –"

"So you thought you'd make me jealous?" Penelope growled. "Seriously? I could dismember you with my bare hands and you thought it would be smart to rile me up?"

"I carry," Derek reminded her, "and I teach self-defense and kick down doors for a living – and you thought it would be funny to let some jerk cop a feel?"

"We shouldn't fight," Penelope sighed. "Bad things happen."

"I was never fighting with you, Baby Girl. But about now, I could start." He pushed her up against the side of the car and kissed her. It was an angry, hot kiss that made her insides melt in anticipation of what was yet to come. Holy fuck, the man could kiss - "But I'd rather fuck you," he confessed against her lips. "So let's go home, Mrs. Morgan."

"Yes," she exhaled weakly, feeling buzzed – but whether it was from the three glasses of wine, one mojito, and the two shots of tequila she'd stolen from Emily, or if it was from the fact that Derek was going all possessively caveman, she wasn't quite sure. She was hoping it was the latter – her days of tequila and knife throwing were supposed to be over.

"Get in the car, woman," he said gruffly.

"Let me go and I will," she murmured.

He reluctantly released her and opened the door for her. "Don't tease me while we're driving or we won't make it home," he advised.

She chuckled, waiting for him to get in the driver's seat. "Are you really that wound up, Hot Stuff?"

"YES."

He threw the SUV into gear and rumbled out of the parking lot, being a hell of a lot rougher with the car than she would've been. But, then again, she didn't have a raging hard-on.

The drive back to the house was silent, aside from Derek swearing every time they had to stop for a red light or stop sign. Penelope wisely held her tongue and didn't even attempt to touch him to soothe his frazzled nerves – because she knew it would lead to even more frazzling. The last thing they needed was to get into an accident on Friday night on the way home from the bar. That wouldn't look so good in their work records.

He parked the SUV next to his motorcycle in the garage and turned to her, licking his lips. "Penelope –"

"Hmm?"

"Next time, just use your words and tell me what you want, Baby Girl."

She raised an eyebrow. "I want you to admit that you took a huge risk and could have been killed – and that you were stupid to do it," she said.

"I was an idiot for going in with only Prentiss for backup," he said. "But there was a reason for it, Baby Girl, and next time, I'll send someone else."

She nodded, feeling tears start to well up in her eyes. "I can't do this without you," she said softly. "The family thing – everything – I need you."

"I would never ask you to do it without me," he said, holding her hand tightly.

"No, but if you keep taking foolish risks, I won't have a choice," she exhaled.

"Baby Girl, I seem to remember a smokin' hot mama getting shot not too long ago –"

"It seems like yesterday," she mumbled. "I looked at the calendar this morning and realized that we met face to face over a year ago. It seems so much longer already. So much has happened in the last year."

"And I wouldn't take any of it back – except you getting stabbed. And shot. And Brielle being born so early. And – well, shit, I'll take out the bad stuff and remind you that Declan is amazing and Brielle is absolutely precious. And it's been a hell of a year." He smiled and squeezed her hand again. "C'mon, sweetheart – let's go inside and open a bottle of wine."

"I think I've had enough to drink for one night," Penelope murmured. "I'm a little fuzzy around the edges at the moment – I think it was the tequila."

Derek stared at her. "You drank tequila, too?"

She shrugged. "You were off making some weird hip thrusting moves with those – those – hussies," she defended. "What was I supposed to do? I drank the wine and the frigging mojito and then I stole two of Emily's shots. And then that creep grabbed my ass and my husband came to the rescue."

"Good god, woman –"

She shrugged. "I used to be able to hold my liquor better," Penelope sighed. "But then I had Emma and I stopped drinking… and then I had wine at Dad's and all but fell into bed with you."

"Baby, let me tell you something," Derek said softly, earnestly. "I wasn't going to sleep with you that night – it was supposed to be a strict drop you off and go home and have some good times with my hand. But you didn't let me leave."

"I threw myself at you like a drunken strumpet," she corrected him gently. "But it may have been the best fucking thing I've ever done in my life." Penelope smiled and leaned over to kiss him very tenderly upon the lips. "Now, let's go inside and have adult time before someone calls us," she murmured. "Okay?"

"Okay?" he echoed. "I thought you'd never ask, woman."

She smiled and said, "You don't need an invitation to what's yours."

"Technically, the house is yours," he reminded her.

"I meant me, idiot," she teased, releasing his hand so she could get out of the car. "You don't need an engraved invitation to have time with me. Just a willingness to overlook that I might not have shaved for a couple of days."

Derek grinned wolfishly. "Oh really now?"

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, were you saying something?" Penelope asked sweetly as he loped around the car and slid his arm around her waist.

"Only that you're the sexiest woman on the planet," he replied, guiding her out of the garage and to the house. "And that I can't wait to get inside and take you on the couch."

"No way," she replied. "I'm not about to clean that up."

"I'll get the lady who cleans your dad's to come over and –"

"Derek!"

He grinned at her and fumbled with his keys till he got the door open. "Damn it," he muttered, "my hands are shaking."

"At the thought of having incredibly hot sex with your incredibly horny wife?" she threw over her shoulder as she deactivated the alarm.

"Something like that," Derek chuckled. "So – the couch is out?"

She rolled her eyes and set the alarm for the night: they wouldn't be going back out. "Stop being special and come upstairs, honey," she said, wondering when he'd gotten so adventurous. They'd always kept it to the bed, the shower, the – okay, that was a lie. She was the boring one. The bed was easy: it was comfortable and allowed her to be more flexible and supported. The shower was also easy: self-cleaning.

Yeah, she was boring and practical.

And incredibly in love with the man who was dragging her up the stairs. "Well, okay, then," Penelope laughed. "You're not at all over-eager or anything –"

"You talk too much when you've had a lot to drink," he teased, tugging her close for a kiss that left her breathless and dizzy. "And all I can think about is kissing you till you put that mouth to good use –"

"Talking dirty?" she exhaled.

"Fuck yes," Derek growled. "I love flirting with my sexy wife."

She blushed. "Derek, baby, flirting and talking dirty aren't the same thing –"

"Wanna make a bet?" he chuckled, tugging her into their bedroom and shutting the door even though they were the only ones in the house. "Do you know how many times I've –"

"Hot Stuff, don't be such a tease," Penelope said, pouting. "You talk too much."

He grinned at her – that infuriatingly smug smile that signified that he knew she was more than slightly randy. Of course, that meant the usual fumble and tumble – they never really took much time. Not that she was complaining because the sooner they got down to business, the sooner she could assuage the burning want inside.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," she huffed.

"Like what?"

"Like the cat that's going to eat the frigging canary."

He responded by all but shoving her against the door and smirking. "You were saying?" Derek inquired, using his knee to work her skirt up her thighs as he braced himself against the door, rather effectively caging her in. She couldn't help it – her breath quickened and she whimpered when his leg came between hers, nudging her clit. "Wait, did I just render the great and powerful Penelope Garcia speechless?"

"Penelope Morgan," she corrected huskily, blinking up at him without a shred of guile. Hell, he was lucky she could concentrate at all when he was doing that – oh, god, why did she get lucky and get the sexy chocolate god with a hell of a bedroom manner? All she needed now was a little bit of sugar and –

Her lips tingled when he kissed her – the pressure was just hard enough to bruise, but not so hard that she would look like a duck in the morning. God, the man knew how to kiss. She moaned, not fighting when he deepened the kiss, accepting the intrusion of his tongue, taking intimacy to a new level. She rocked her hips, riding his thigh, needing more sensation than he was willing to give her.

He pulled out of the kiss and growled, "Mama, calm the fuck down. My leg is not a bucking bronco."

Her lips twisted into a sly smirk. "Oh, you won't let me at the actual bronco, so I've got to ride what I can," Penelope teased.

"You're –"

"Very wet and ready to go to town," she interrupted. "So there."

"Didn't anyone ever teach you anything about seduction?" Derek chided, his lips drifting down to kiss her neck, leaving hot trails of desire with each kiss. "You're meant to tease and tantalize, not reveal your whole hand all at once, woman."

"I don't care," she moaned. She closed her eyes and whimpered when he nipped at her neck. "If you can't love me the way I am, why bother changing my wicked ways at all?" she exhaled. "I'm wet and ready and I don't want to play games."

"If you were any other woman, hearing that would be a turn-off," he growled against her collarbone. "But you're so damn sexy and all mine."

"I am not sexy," she denied. He guided her legs up and around his hips, then carried her the few steps to their bed. "Derek, put me the fuck down – you're going to throw your back out!"

"If you say one more thing about being fat, I'm going to spank that hot ass of yours," he said, tossing her onto the bed abruptly. "And then I'm going to remind you of all the reasons I love you being curvy."

Her heartbeat settled into her pelvis at the tender heat in his words. Fuck, yes, she would do just about anything to have him worship her – again. And again. For some crazy reason, he didn't mind her belly rolls and stretch marks. And he loved her thighs – or at least being between them. Oh, dear god, her heart sped up even more at the predatory look on his face as he stripped off his shirt. He was going to give her a fucking heart attack one of these days; but what a way to go.

She smiled mischievously and surreptitiously moved her skirt up her legs, almost giving him a show, but not quite. "I almost didn't wear this dress tonight," she commented, "because it hugs my belly too much and no matter what you say, Hot Stuff, I do need to lose some weight."

"Did I not just tell you I was going to turn you over my knee and spank your fine ass if you said another word about –" Then it dawned on him and he chuckled. "Well played, Mama. Well played."

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Agent Morgan," she said in an innocent tone as she worked the tie of her dress. When the knot slipped and she started unwrapping herself, he let out a low whistle of approval. "You do have your handcuffs, right? It might be a long night…"

His pants were off in a flash and she was almost drooling at how hard he was already. "Don't tease, Mama," Derek muttered. "I have yet to get you going for a whole night."

"Well, tonight's your lucky night," she purred, sitting up and slipping out of her dress, then her bra. "Just make sure we get the bottle of wine upstairs for later." She winked. "Alcohol, time with my fucking hot god of a husband, and smut – what better way to spend a Friday night, Hot Stuff?"

"Drunken debauchery, lechery, and smut was not what I'd intended –"

She laughed and patted the mattress. "Hop on up, Stud Muffin," she instructed softly. "And I'll show you a good night – and a good morning."

"Every morning we wake up together is a good morning," he teased, playing deliberately obtuse as he joined her on the bed wearing nothing more than the smile on his lips and the tattoos all over his gorgeous body.

She smiled in return and used a glittery blue fingernail to trace the outline of his lion tattoo. "Mmmhmm," she agreed, feeling him tense and relax one muscle at a time below her finger. She paused and blinked. "How did I not notice this?" Penelope asked.

"Huh?" Derek said, the spell broken.

"You added the kids' names to your tattoo –"

"Yeah, like a month ago," he said, chuckling. "You really haven't been paying any attention lately, have you?"

She sighed in a bit of defeat. "Not really – I'll do better," she promised, tears in her eyes that she had to blink back. He was such a sweet man: she definitely didn't deserve him. God knows tattoos are forever and he'd made no bones about just getting…

This was their happily ever after with three kids, a sensible car, a dog that spent more time with Rossi and Mudgie than he did with them, and amazing sex. It was what they made of it.

And Penelope caught him off guard when she tackled him and straddled his thighs. "Holy shit, Mama –" he puffed, slightly winded by her over exuberance and by the fact that she'd just knocked him around with all the force of a freight train. "You've got every football player beat - you just –"

"Of course I have them beat," she teased, putting her hands behind her head and shaking what god gave her. "I've got these." Large breasts were a hassle – you always have to wear a bra, you can't just wake up in the morning and expect your back not to hurt – but they definitely had their uses at times.

He groaned, reaching up to run his thumbs around her nipples while she leaned forward into his waiting hands. She was the one woman who wasn't that turned on by breast play – they just kind of hung there and got her some male attention – but this was one of the few times she was getting a jolt of sensation out of it. Her Hot Stuff definitely had that indefinable 'it' in spades if he was getting her revved up by playing with her tits.

He gently traced the edges of a scar and she flinched, pulling away like she always did. "Derek," she whispered, getting him to still. "Not tonight." She'd never told him where that scar came from and she sure as hell didn't know why he was so fascinated by it. So it had become a ritual in the bedroom for him to touch it and for her to deny him his questions. He didn't need to know that she'd been burned with a white-hot poker by Chloe Donaghy. He already knew too much about what that woman had done to Penelope.

She distracted him by leaning forward so the scar wasn't visible to his gaze any longer and she smiled down at him, her shaky confidence building itself back up again as she leaned in to kiss him. It wasn't a kiss full of electricity or excitement, but a sweet, innocent kiss that proved that she loved him beyond a shadow of any kind of doubt. She gave herself without guile or shame – just a kiss that left her satisfied with the world.

"I love you," she whispered. "I really, really epically love you, Derek Morgan."

His only response was to kiss her back, deepening the kiss, letting his tongue slide against hers, distracting her with insatiable hunger. That was fine – she knew how he felt and didn't need assurance of it tonight. She just needed him.

She sure as hell didn't protest when he rolled them over mid-mind-shattering-kiss. Nor did she protest when his fingers stroked her into madness and beyond. However, she did make a tiny noise of protest when he broke from their hungry kisses and slid down her body like a tempting serpent – fuck, if he'd been Satan in the garden of Eden, she would have definitely plucked that damn apple… and eaten the whole thing while fucking. He really was that talented.

He tickled the divot behind her knee with his tongue and she whimpered, never knowing how erotic that spot was – or was it just the fact that it was him and he was in 'explore and conquer' mode? She felt silly, her leg draped over him as he licked his way down her thigh – but then she forgot how to breathe. He was kneading her ass, tilting her hips, then he completely went to town. He nipped and suckled, licked and nuzzled, brought her to tears and a bed-shaking orgasm that surprised them both.

"Fuck," she exhaled when she could see straight again and the stars left her vision. He was as wide-eyed as she felt herself to be, but that didn't make him stop. Not at all. In fact, it just made him go for a second turn in line for the candy counter. By the time he was ready to get serious, she'd come several times and he was sporting that smug male grin again.

"Oh, stop looking so smug," she pleaded. "I look like a fool –"

"You look amazing," he said. "There is nothing sexier than your face when you're coming – your eyes close and you bite your lip and your cheeks get so pink and…"

"Shut up!" she demanded, giggling a little as he loomed above her. "You're awful."

"You sure love me a lot for me being awful," he teased, moving in for another kiss. He broke away to guide her legs onto his shoulders and waggled his eyebrows. "Wanna have some fun, Misses?"

"Fuck yes," she breathed, accepting another greedy, hungry kiss. Her body was humming with pent-up energy when he aligned himself and rocked his hips. She inhaled sharply – the angle was just awkward enough that he stretched her almost to the point of pain. "D, slow down," she begged. He complied, slowly rocking his way along till he was buried to the hilt. "God, yes," she breathed, grabbing his forearms to steady herself.

And then they were off and running – she felt every tiny movement he made, whimpering and moaning, screaming when he bit her lip. She couldn't do much but adjust her hips and hold on for the ride, meeting his kisses with wild abandon. It didn't take long for the heat and friction to overwhelm them both: he shouted in a primal, guttural rendition of her name, and she heard her answering shriek echoing in the last remnants of her mind.

But then they were in the most awkward possible position. And she had a cramp in the back of her thigh.

Well, shit.


	27. Chapter 27

I still don't own anything related to Criminal Minds. But I do make candles with the scent of Hot Stuff. Because I can. YES. Because I fucking can.

* * *

><p>Part twenty-seven:<p>

* * *

><p>July 9, 2012<br>10:05 AM EDT

Penelope knocked on the closed office door, but didn't even wait for an answer before she barged in. Derek glanced up from his paperwork and she slammed the door behind her. "Answer me something, Hot Stuff," she demanded.

"Only if it means you calming down," he replied. He knew today was stressful for her – it was her first day back on the job after months of leave – but the look on his face clearly bespoke that he didn't have a fucking clue what was actually going on. "Does this have something to do with Lynch cluttering up your office?"

"No – that I can deal with and somewhat understand," she muttered begrudgingly. "And he's coming over to clean up. Because I made him realize that there are things I could do to him that would be worse than cluttering up my office. No, no, my problem is administrative."

"Why not talk to Hotch or Strauss then?"

"I have. Which is why I'm talking to you, because the laughability of the entire thing makes me want to puke!" She took a deep breath and sighed. "So, I have to be recertified to carry my gun, right? Well, now they're making me get a special dispensation and 'training' to certify to carry a knife. Do you see the irony in being forced to teach an offensive defense class when I could do more damage teaching people to use a nail file to stab someone with than I could with a gun? I just – it boggles my fucking mind."

He was fighting not to smile and she scowled at him, daring him to spoil her rotten mood by making her smile, too. "Baby Girl, listen to yourself," Derek finally said. "When is your first class?"

She glanced at her watch and sighed dramatically. "In about twenty minutes –"

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling. "Instead of ranting and raving about stupid things like spending time at the firing range with your stud muffin hubby, I mean."

She blinked at him, her bad mood dissolving in the span of a heartbeat. "Oh my god, Hot Stuff, I didn't even think about how romantic a trip to the firing range could be," she teased sarcastically, a hint of a smile returning to her lips.

"Now, the special dispensation is just stupid," Derek said.

"GOD, I KNOW," she cried, throwing her hands in the air. "What do you usually wear when you teach your classes?" Penelope asked. "I don't even know what the hell I'm supposed to be doing –"

"Mama, we're usually throwing each other around, so I'm in shorts and a tank," Derek said. "But since your class is practical, you should be okay in that. I think."

She glanced down at her lilac cami, green cardigan, and matching plaid skirt, then looked back up at him in panic. "Oh god, I look like a clown – why didn't you tell me I looked like I hooked at a carnival when we left the house this morning?" Penelope gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Derek, no one is going to take me seriously!"

He cracked a huge smile at that. "Baby Girl, let me tell you something – they aren't going to be looking at your clothes," Derek said, getting up and coming over to hug her. "The pink streaks in your hair, however …"

"I like them," she said defensively, holding him tight. "Can you… Derek, do me a favor?"

"Anything," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

"Can you come in at some point and make sure I'm not totally bombing as a teacher?" Penelope asked worriedly. "I mean, I'm not the typical FBI agent to begin with, and I don't know which lines I should and shouldn't cross – and god knows I'm not good at heeding authority anyway."

"Sweetheart, you're rambling," he murmured. "Just go in there and be yourself. They'll like you and respect you because you know what you're talking about. And don't forget your ballistics gel dummy. Use him – make them see what you're teaching them."

She exhaled a sigh that sounded way more melodramatic than she'd intended it to. "Okay, well – can I borrow your letter opener? And I need to go raid the supply cupboard for a box of plain ballpoint pens. And a stapler."

"Mama, I'm scared now."

"You should sit in on my class," she said, stepping out of his embrace. "You might learn a thing or two."

"You better get going before I spank you," Derek said in a resolute tone. "Go, Pen. Go teach your class."

* * *

><p>July 9, 2012<br>10:35 AM EDT

The last of the stragglers seemed to have gotten into the conference room and Penelope smiled at everyone, trying not to show how nervous she felt. It was one thing to know how to do something and another altogether to try to teach it to someone else. "So, hi, everyone," she said cheerfully. "My name is Penelope Morgan and I'm a technical analyst SSA with the Behavioral Analysis Unit here at the Academy. I'm here to teach you how to defend yourself in close quarters with minimal but practical gear."

One of the training agents, a tall, burly man with a bald head, raised his hand, a sneer on his lips. "Pardon me, ma'am, but what makes you qualified to teach anything but computer things?" he asked.

Penelope smile turned positively saccharine – she could feel it freeze on her lips while she contemplated kicking the jerk in the nuts. But she decided that a demonstration was in order instead. "I'm sorry you have so little faith in my teaching abilities," she said in a very chipper tone as she grabbed Derek's letter opener from the conference table. "Meet my assistant, Buster," she said, gesturing at the ballistics gel dummy of a human torso in the corner. "Say goodbye to Buster." With one fluid motion, she turned on her heel and sent the letter opener flying through the air, striking straight where the dummy's heart would have been, had he been flesh and blood. She turned back to the burly man and said, "Now sit down and listen up."

"Yes, ma'am," he said in an impressed tone, doing exactly as he was bidden.

The door opened and Penelope raised an eyebrow when she saw Derek and JJ try to sneak into the room. "You two," she said, gesturing, "you're late. Park it." Derek smirked at her and winked, but took a seat, and JJ sat primly in a chair. "Okay – first thing's first: if you're in an office setting, close quarters, cubicles and the like, what do you have access to?" Penelope inquired. "Besides the letter opener that has killed poor Buster, that is."

JJ raised her hand. "Computer equipment," she said.

"Nice try, but it's hard to hurt someone with anything other than a corded mouse," Penelope said. She smiled patiently at JJ, knowing that her friend had never been forced to fight to the death with nothing to save herself with.

"Stapler," Derek said, the smirk still on his lips.

She was going to have to wipe that look off his damn face. "Good," she acknowledged, picking up a heavy, full black Swingline stapler from the table and rolling it over in her hand. "A stapler is a well-balanced tool," she said. "You can wield it in several ways – the first of which being the obvious one where you literally send staples into someone's flesh. But that can be messy and problematic in close combat. The easier, safer, and definitely more productive way to fight with it is to open the stapler and use it as a bludgeoning tool." She popped the stapler, removed the staples, and proceeded to whack Buster upside the "head".

"I'm sorry," a female trainee said, "but how is this relevant to –"

Penelope turned a withering glare on the woman. "Do you really think you're going to be kicking down doors every day? Or chasing aliens? Or whatever? Because the likelihood is that you're going to get stuck in a desk job. This is just practical self-defense. You need to learn to think like anything can and will happen. You need to understand that many things you wouldn't expect can be used as weapons."

"Like a shoe," Derek said, his eyes twinkling with merriment.

"SSA Jareau, could you please smother your companion for me while I demonstrate how it is, indeed, possible to kill someone with a shoe," Penelope said sweetly, slipping out of her Iron Fist high heels and holding one up threateningly. She winked at Derek and walked up to Buster. "It takes a precise angle, but the heel of any pair of spike heels can be used to tear the carotid artery," she said, lifting the shoe only a foot from the dummy. It was like a bad memory, the muscle memory kicking in from twelve years before, and the next thing she knew, the heel of the shoe was stuck completely in the gel.

She knew she had to look different when she turned back to her class: they were staring at her like she'd grown a second head, some with fear and respect in their eyes. JJ was watching her with clear pride and admiration on her face, while Derek sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

Penelope cleared her throat and retrieved her shoe with a sickening slurp from the gel before putting her shoes back on. "You asked what makes me qualified to teach this class: in a former lifetime, I was an undercover CIA agent," she said. "I've had to defend myself in situations that required quick thinking and minimal supplies. I have killed someone with a shoe. I've also maimed someone with a vinyl record, a lamp, and a remote control. You never know what you'll have available to use as a weapon, but that's why we're here: to expand your mind and allow for the unconventional."

The rest of the class proceeded along much the same line until she glanced at the clock and it mercifully said '11:30'. "Okay, you've all passed," Penelope declared. "Especially those of you who thought of using a baking sheet to flatten someone's skull. Well done."

She stayed behind when her 'students' left, aside from JJ and Derek. "You didn't totally bomb," JJ said with a smile as she came over to hug Penelope. "You gave me some things to think about – which is what all good teachers do. And I think some of those guys wanted to sleep with you."

Penelope snorted slightly and rolled her eyes. "The only guy I want to sleep with is the guy that's standing over there, looking all brooding and gorgeous," she said, smiling over at Derek. "And what's your verdict, Hot Stuff?"

"You need to work on your technique a bit – you tend to babble when you don't know what to say," Derek said. "But on the whole, damn fine job, Mama."

JJ looked down at her phone and frowned. "I knew I shouldn't have put it on airplane mode," she muttered. "Derek, we have a case. Penelope, Hotch wants you in the briefing, too."

"Great," Penelope said cheerfully, grabbing her phone and the few things she needed to put back in the supply cabinet. "Wait – Hotch wants me in the briefing? Why? You all usually tell me what's up from the road."

"I don't know," JJ said. "Just leave the stuff – we're already late."

JJ hurried out of the room and Derek came to gather up Penelope's tablet and phone for her. "You did great, Baby Girl – so don't worry so much about the next class," he said as they left the conference room and headed back up to the sixth floor.

"I'm not really worried," she said with a sigh. "I'm more anxious about what's going to happen when we get to the briefing – it sounds bad, whatever it is."

"Hotch probably wants you on point with the information trolling before we even get in the air," Derek said. "So don't be surprised if it's a long day."

They waited for a moment for the elevator, then stepped inside, ignoring the couple of people who were there. Penelope found her hand locked tightly with her husband's, their fingers twined together for a long moment – her pale fingers with their shimmery purple polish were a harsh counterpoint to his much darker skin. But they were content to have those few moments before they pulled away and became all business on the approach to the sixth floor.

When they reached the conference room, Rossi grinned up at her. "How was your class, Kitten?"

"I think it was a success, but I need to work on a few things," Penelope said, sliding into a chair and grabbing her tablet and phone from Derek. "Sorry, Hotch – "

"No, I'm the one that should be sorry," Hotch said, starting the PowerPoint. "We have a case in San Francisco. Someone is using a dating site to lure in unsuspecting victims before they rape and mutilate them. Adding insult to injury, the unsub leaves bits of his victims all over the city in completely unrelated areas, which is only making him or her that much more difficult to trace by the local PD."

The photos that were flashing up on the screen were making Penelope feel nauseated, and she'd spent how many years seeing disgusting things? Seeing them in person was different than seeing a silent, non-moving representation of them.

"I presume you have a go-bag?" Hotch said, looking at Penelope. "Because we need you with us, Garcia."

She stared at him. "Uh – my contract says –"

"I already talked to Will," Rossi spoke up, "and the kids are going to stay with him."

"Sir, I don't do trips," Penelope protested, looking helplessly at Emily and Reid, then back at Hotch. "It's much easier to do the job from a –"

"We need you on site," Hotch said in a tone that made her shut up. "Morgan, take your wife home and get her bag packed. Meet us at the airport in an hour."

"I have a bag," Penelope finally said. "For when I was stuck in the office overnight."

"Anything you need that isn't in that bag, we'll get in California," Derek promised. "I assume you'll be letting us share a hotel room?" he asked, glowering at Hotch. "So we can share toothpaste and shampoo."

Emily snickered. "You still carry shampoo, Cueball?"

"Shut up," Derek muttered.

"Of course you and Penelope will share a room," Hotch said. "Wheel's up in 30, then, since Penelope has her clothes."

"You'd better assign me a guard," Penelope grumbled, "because I can't carry any kind of a weapon till I recertify."

Rossi held up a piece of paper. "Get your gun, kiddo – special dispensation for the duration of the case. Knife and pistol."

"Fuck YES," Penelope exclaimed, much to everyone else's amusement. "What?" she said, looking around the room with a blank expression on her face. "I hate depending on someone else to watch out for my ass."

Since the doctor had cleared her completely, she'd gone to work strength training. Derek had implemented a regimen for her, and she'd managed to tone up a little and lose a bit of the worrisome belly fat, as well as almost thirty pounds. She was much happier for it and definitely felt a bit more like her old, ass-kicking self. She could definitely take care of herself now.

"Oh, Mama, I'm always watching out for your ass," Derek said with a smirk and a dirty, saucy wink.

She punched him in the shoulder. "I'm going to get my bag – any other equipment besides the standards I need to pack?" she asked Hotch.

"Not that I know of."

"Good!"

* * *

><p>July 9, 2012<br>3:15 PM PDT

"How long has it been since you've been in San Francisco, Garcia?" Reid asked from the back seat of the SUV. She knew that it should bother her that Strauss had refused Penelope the right to change her name on her credentials and in the HR database based on the fact that two Morgans in the same department would be too confusing, but what did actually bother her was Hotch and Reid's insistence on calling her Garcia in front of people.

"Too long," Penelope said softly, glancing out the window, taking in the sights beyond the car. "I left in 1997." She didn't say much more than that as they turned onto a familiar road. They drove past a cemetery and it was all she could do not to beg Derek to stop the car. It wouldn't do any good. They were on the way to the precinct station that was around the corner from her childhood home. Of all the places in San Fran, this was where they caught a big case. It wasn't fair. She wanted to be anonymous, but all she could feel was remorse for leaving and going into hiding.

They passed by the house and she wanted to jump out and see if it still had the rope swing in the backyard, hanging from the oak tree. She read the name on the mailbox and her heart sank – it still read "Garcia" in reflective silver block letters. There were a lot of Garcias in California. It could be coincidence.

"Hey, what's with you?" Emily asked from the back. "You're being awfully quiet up there."

Penelope snapped out of it and plastered on a smile. "I'm just a bad flier – you know that," she said. "Still a little nauseated is all."

"Worried about the kids?" Emily prodded.

"Yeah, that, too," Penelope agreed. "I mean, it's the first time I've really been away at all and –"

"They'll be fine," Derek finally spoke up as they pulled into the parking lot behind the other SUV and parked. "I have no doubt that the kids will bounce back and be ready for a video chat at bedtime."

Penelope sighed. "It's not the same as tucking them in," she pointed out.

"God, I miss you being kick-ass and not whipped," Emily muttered. "Both of you."

Penelope grabbed the equipment bag from her feet and slung it over her shoulder as she climbed out of the SUV. She looked at the station, feeling just as small as she had in 1997 when she'd gotten there in the dark to get the news that her parents had died. Nothing much had changed.

"Want me to carry that?" Derek asked.

"Nope," she murmured. "You go ahead with Dad and Hotch. I'll bring up the rear and hopefully, someone will find me a good spot with plenty of outlets to set up."

"You okay, goddess?"

She nodded, trying to be convincing. "Yeah – I'm fine," she said softly. "It's just weird to be back after all this time." She smiled weakly. "I didn't mean to make you worry, honey."

"Well, now I am worried – you never call me honey unless something's wrong," Derek said softly. "Baby, what's up?"

"It'll keep," she said. "Hotch is waiting and he looks none too happy – go catch up."

Derek took long strides to catch up to the group and she hurried along behind him, her heels clacking away on the pavement. Someone held the door for her and she headed inside, only a few steps behind the team – and barely winded, at that!

Hotch was saying, " – Agents Prentiss and Jareau, and our technical analyst, Agent Garcia. Garcia will need a cubicle or an office with plenty of space to set up our equipment. She will be the go-to for any technological aspects of the investigation."

The man Hotch was talking to flagged down a Detective and said, "Take Agent Garcia to the Captain's office and help her set up her equipment. Make sure she can log into the system."

Penelope chuckled. "Oh, don't worry about that," she said sweetly. "I'm sure I'll do just fine." She followed the Detective a couple of steps before Derek grabbed her hand and squeezed it – just for a moment. She smiled at him and winked before all but trotting behind the Detective. "So, I'm going to need two power strips, a webcam, access to the main router, and a very large cup of coffee, four sugars, one cream," she commented, racking her brain for anything else that she might have left in Quantico.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do," the Detective said. "I'll get someone to bring you in a temporary login and password and –"

"You don't have to," Penelope said. "I'll bypass your security protocols and run my laptop connection to Quantico as an adjunct independent server. No big deal." She smiled at him as he held the door open for her. "The Captain isn't going to be pissed about me absconding with his office?" she inquired, flipping the light on.

"Captain Garcia has been in the field since this morning," the Detective said. "He's not going to care, so long as you don't mess with things."

"Oh, believe me, I have no intention of bothering his things," Penelope assured him. "Thank you – and maybe you can point me to the ladies' room?"

"Down the hall, around the corner to the left," he said. "And I'll get someone to bring you your coffee."

Penelope flopped down into the – very nice – swivel chair and started pulling out components. Before someone tapped on the door, she was most of the way set up – she just needed those power strips. The webcam was only necessary if she had issues with the one on her laptop, but it was always good to have backup. "Come in," she called, typing with a flourish as she set up the connection back to Quanitco.

"I come bearing two power strips and a cup of coffee – four sugars, one cream."

She glanced up and smiled. "Good thing! I was about to send out the Cavalry to hunt down the power strips."

"You know, I've only ever met one woman that had that particular coffee order, but she disappeared about fifteen years ago."

Her smile faded. "Devon," she said, her blood going cold in her veins, that old familiar anxiety gripping her yet again.

"I thought it was you," Devon Williams said, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. "Penelope Garcia, finally gracing us with her presence again – do your brothers know you're in town?"

"It's work," she said. "Not anything else."

"Well, you're sitting at Chuck's desk, so you're probably going to give him a heart attack when he comes back for the paperwork."

"I'd be surprised if he recognized me," Penelope said with an indelicate snort. Her phone rang and she dove to grab it. "Hello, Hot Stuff, we're live in San Francisco with your lovely sexy self – what can Mama do you for?"

"Baby Girl, we're on our way to visit the crime scenes," Derek said. "Hotch wants an update on when the system will be up."

"Ten minutes, give or take – just got my power strips," Penelope said cheerfully. "Tell the BossMan that I'll be up in fifteen and then you can start sending me information for processing."

"Okay," Derek said. "You okay?"

"I have a cup of coffee waiting for me to finish plugging things in," she said pointedly. "I'm fine, Derek – you worry about catching the sicko and stop worrying about me."

"I'm not worrying –"

"Stop lying," she murmured. "I'll see you later." She clicked off and glanced over at Devon. "Agent Morgan is overprotective," she said, shrugging slightly. "Wanna give me a hand with these cords?"

"Sure… if you tell me where you've been for fifteen years and why you didn't even think to tell anyone you were leaving in the first place," Devon said, getting down on his knees to help her.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, ducking as far under the desk as she could to reach the main outlet. "Suffice it to say I went off the grid and got picked up by the government for doing things that maybe I shouldn't have been doing." She turned and flashed him a sweet smile. "And as far as not telling anyone I was leaving? It was kind of a decision made in haste when Chuck got drunk and threw me out of my own home one night. Why would I tell anyone I was leaving when I wasn't wanted there in the first place?" She plugged in the last of the cords and came out from under the desk.

"I was your boyfriend – the least you could have done was tell me what was going on!"

She patted him on the cheek and shook her head. "No, because you would've talked me into staying and working things out. And that's not what I needed. Dev, I was a kid fifteen years ago – now I'm a mother and a Federal Agent and I've seen things in this life I should never have been witness to. But it's made me who I am and I wouldn't change that for the world. I can't imagine being the person sitting behind a desk all day, typing up reports for a corporation. I'm just not that girl."

"You have kids?"

She smiled and reached for her iPhone. "Three of them," she said proudly. "Emma, Declan, and Brielle." She held up the phone with their latest family snapshot on the screen – everyone was making a silly face for the camera except Brielle, who was looking bewildered. Derek wasn't in the picture because he'd been taking it from across the booth at the pizza place. "And, before you ask, yes – I am married."

"Chuck is going to shit a thousand gold bricks –"

"Chuck can kiss my ass," Penelope said, turning off the display and settling back into the chair. "I'm here to do a job. I'm not here to coddle him. That's what he has you for."

"How did you –"

She pointed at one of the photos on the desk. "You're too close to be buddies," she said softly. "It's okay – "

"We've been partners for ten years," Devon said. "I just – is it that obvious?"

She shrugged. "Only to someone who knows how to profile," she said. Truth was, she'd always thought that Devon was using her to get near her older brothers – but she'd never suspected till now that he'd been homosexual, or at the least, bisexual. Her phone rang again and she answered with, "Oracle of the all-knowing and all-seeing, we are patched into the dirtiest part of the internet, mon cher – what can I do you for?"

"Don't get flirty with me," Hotch said. "I need you to go over and compile the ME reports for the victims. Dive into their personal histories, tax records, anything that might be relevant. We're meeting with Captain Garcia as we speak and we need some kind of backup when we return to the station."

"Already on it, Boss," Penelope said cheerfully. "And will you tell Derek that he can stop texting me every thirty seconds to ask if I'm all right? I'm fine. I'll be better when we're on our way home, though."

"Of course," Hotch said.

"Oracle of amazeballs, over and out," she replied, terminating the call. She looked up at Devon. "I'm sorry – I have work to do and a video call to make. Maybe we can talk about this later? Is Yellow Belly still open? We could go get drinks or something."

"Yellow Belly closed five years ago," Devon said. "I think you should come by the house – if Chuck doesn't blow his top completely when he sees you sitting at his desk like nothing ever happened."

She smiled slightly as she logged into the SFPD mainframe – yet another system she'd cracked like a knife sliding through butter – and replied, "Oh, everything in the world has happened in fifteen years. And Chuck would do well to hold his temper in check."

Devon shook his head and sighed. "You always were stubborn."

"Yeah," she agreed. "That's what's kept me alive all this time: being stubborn as hell." She didn't acknowledge him leaving or returning to check on her an hour or more later.

It was almost seven when she saw the team trickle back in from the field through the windows in the office. She'd already long-since done what Hotch had asked, transferring the data to their tablets, and she'd gone above and beyond – they had complete access to every part of the dating website's system. She was monitoring it on a ticker for malicious code, suspicious conversations posted in direct messages, and several other parameters.

She saw Derek talking to a balding man, then Devon swooped in and held a whispered conversation with him. Oh. Fuck. Shit. Balls. Penelope took a deep breath and waited.

Derek was actually the first one to come into the office. "Hey, gorgeous – you ready to get some dinner and call it a night?"

She grabbed her purse and nodded. "Absofuckinlutely," she said in an exhaled rush. "Before any other shit hits the fan."

"How are the kids?" Derek asked.

"They were fine when I called earlier," she murmured as he helped her into her jacket – she could do it herself, but it was sweet that he made the effort. "Let's get out of here."

"Baby Girl, you don't look so great."

"I'm just tired," she dismissed with a wave of the hand. "I've got my tablet patched into the laptop, so if the mainframe catches anything in Quantico, we'll know it – even at the hotel. I even set up a special alarm on the tablet just for that. Now, dinner and a shower. It's been a really long day." Her gaze flitted back out the window and she said, "I mean –"

"I know exactly what you mean," Derek replied with a smile. "C'mon, Mama."

They stepped out of the office and she heard Devon call, "Agent Garcia!"

She pretended not to hear him and took a few steps with Derek before Devon repeated the shout. "Mama, I think someone needs you," Derek said.

"I think I need food and someone needs to wait till fucking morning," Penelope hissed. She spun on her heel and snapped, "What the HELL do you want, Williams? I was just about to get dinner and fall into bed, god DAMN it."

"See, Chuck – I told you it was her," Devon said with a little smirk.

Charles Garcia glared at Derek and said, "Get your hands off my sister, Agent Morgan."


	28. Chapter 28

I *still* don't own anything. You think I'd know that by now. (FYI, if I don't post, it's basically because I'm not in a position to write for the time being. I work a full-time job during the day and have my own business on the side and both of those take major priority over scribbling – though scribbling makes me feel better about life.)

* * *

><p>Part twenty-eight:<p>

* * *

><p>"Kitten, is –"<p>

Penelope shook her head once at her father and Emily, who were threatening to join the fray. Then she turned to Chuck and said in a very firm voice that didn't waver – though god, she felt her courage slipping – "My husband can put his hands wherever the hell he wants, Captain Garcia." She took a deep breath and continued forward because she couldn't keep looking behind her. "And you lost the right to tell me what to do the night you threw me out onto the street. So stop making a scene."

"Is this what was bothering you earlier, Baby Girl?" Derek asked, putting his arm around her shoulders protectively.

She sighed and said, "Let's just go get dinner and go to the hotel. I'm too tired for any of this bullshit."

"This is family, not bullshit," Chuck snapped.

"THIS is my family," Penelope said, gesturing wildly around the room. "My FAMILY is in Quantico. YOU are my step-father's son – the man who threw me out on my ass on the worst night of my life without money, without anything that was mine, and all I had to my name was the clothes I was wearing. I'm beyond done with you – I'm here to help catch a murderer. If you can't accept that, you can fuck off. I'm done, Derek – let's go." She refused to spare Chuck another glance, instead starting the march to the exit with firm determination.

She was more embarrassed than she was angry. She'd given up on Chuck a long time ago – she'd had to practically erase herself from the grid to avoid having to block his incessant search for her. Her step-brother was worse than a grade-A whack-job stalker. And now this crap? She was finished with it: that chapter of her life was long since over.

He'd accused her to her face of being the reason his father and her mother had been killed. It didn't help that Penelope had already believed that – eighteen and stupid, she'd already dropped out of CalTech at that point and was on the verge of curling up somewhere and not getting up for anyone or anything. Suicide had been a real option – which was why when he threw her out on her ass, she'd just walked the fuck away and started again. One of her friends from school had taken her in and taught her the basics of code, but Penelope had seen the potential between the lines and the language and her acumen had taken on a life of its own. Soon, she was the code.

She'd been young and stupid – thinking she wouldn't be caught or held liable for her actions, just because she could do what she thought no one else could.

Then the CIA had stepped in. The rest was history.

And now, as an adult, as a woman with a family and a home and a job that she actually liked doing, she wouldn't be reduced to being that scared little girl again. She was so much more than the child that had been so desperate so long ago.

"I'm sorry about that," she said softly to Derek when they stepped outside into the warm, humid night air. "You shouldn't have had to see –"

"Mama, pump your brakes," Derek said. "You could've told me this case was your old stomping grounds. You could have said you might run into someone you knew. I would've been okay with it – I would have protected you."

"I don't want protection," she sighed. "Right now? I want to go home."

"Sorry, Mama," he said, holding her hand, "but till we catch this unsub, there's no chance of that."

She sighed. "D, it's not that I'm nervous about leaving the kids with Will, but they do take an awful lot of energy to keep up with and if it's more than a few days, things might start falling apart."

"Baby Girl, relax," he insisted, hugging her. "Or you'll be the thing that starts falling apart."

She half-heartedly punched him in the shoulder. "Stop it," she muttered. "I'll be fine once I get some sleep – and, no, I don't want to talk about it. I want to eat something, take a shower, and sleep. That's all."

"Fortunately, we're in California, so we should be able to find you some food," Derek teased, pulling her close and kissing her temple.

"Hey," Emily said as they approached the SUVs, "you wanna tell me what happened in there?"

Penelope shrugged. "Not really," she said.

"Food," Reid said pointedly. "And then we can talk about Penelope's family problems. Again."

"Not fair," Emily said, pointing at him. "How many times have we talked about your family issues and you've thrown it back at us, saying, 'Don't profile me'?"

"God, get a room, you two," Derek snapped. "We're all tired."

"It's all I can do not to call Will and make sure the kids are in bed, but it's almost eight here – so it's eleven there," Penelope sighed. "So I know they're in bed and asleep, but –"

"It's the mommy instinct," JJ said with a small smile. "Will texted earlier and said everyone was tucked in and happy."

"Where are we going for dinner, then?" Derek asked. "Since we're all starving."

"There's a good Italian place a couple of miles from here," Rossi spoke up. "Cass and I went there a few times and I always make a point to visit when I'm in town."

Penelope stared at him. "Marco's?" she asked. When he nodded, she said, "That's where we went on my birthday – every year. I love their pesto penne with spinach and tomato."

"Sounds good," Hotch said. "So let's get food and go to the hotel. We'll have a very early morning tomorrow."

"Yeah," Penelope agreed, "unless something happens tonight, in which case, we will know by the dulcet tones of Doctor Reid here screaming out of my tablet."

"Seriously?" Reid asked.

She just smiled at him and winked. "On to dinner!"

* * *

><p>Marco's, with its simple red, black and chrome diner-esque color scheme was just the same as it was for Penelope's entire life – and if Rossi were to be believed, for so much longer than that. The menu hadn't changed much, either, which made it easy for Penelope to find her favorites and for everyone else to find something to their liking as well.<p>

While they waited for the food, they went over case notes on their tablets. Penelope idly monitored her scripts and did a little more in-depth monitoring of her husband, who was sitting by Hotch, hypothesizing something based on a geographical profile. It was pretty telling that he and Rossi were right under Hotch as far as command went – and that Derek didn't want to get distracted by his wife while he was working. Which made her feel conflicted, because, damn it, she could prioritize and split her attention – why couldn't he?

"So, you gonna tell me what happened back there?" Emily asked, leaning over and grabbing a breadstick. "Because it looked like Captain Garcia was about to get a Baby Girl smackdown for a second."

Penelope sighed and put her tablet into screensaver mode. "Chuck is my youngest step-brother," she said in a clipped tone. "He was twenty-three when I was born. So he took on the role of 'parent' when my parents died. And he fucked up royally, so I don't give a shit what he thinks or what he thinks he was going to accomplish with that macho display of bullshit back there."

"Did you know he'd be there?" JJ asked, leaning over and lowering her voice.

Penelope shrugged. "I knew it was a possibility – he was a cop, he'd been at that station for most of my life. I just didn't think that he'd know me."

Rossi clearly heard the entire conversation because he broke from the case file for long enough to say, "Kitten, how many times do I have to tell you that you look like your mother? No one forgets that face."

Penelope had the grace to blush as the server delivered a tray loaded down with salads. "So, about the case," she said once she'd tucked into her salad a couple of bites worth. "I'm thinking if we can't track the guy and can't lure him out of hiding, we might need to look into setting up a profile that we can monitor with a person who fits the victimology."

"No," Hotch and Derek said at the same time.

"I'm just saying –"

"Considering everything that's happened in the last few months, I would like to add my vote to 'hell no'," Reid said firmly. "You fit the victimology, Penelope."

"I KNOW," Penelope said. "Which is exactly my point."

"No way," Emily said firmly. "You're not intentionally putting yourself in danger – ever again."

"Okay, well, what's your great idea, genius?" Penelope countered irritably, stabbing her salad viciously.

"We catch the asshole and go home," Emily shot back from the hip. "So stop talking crazy."

"I'm not just a tech," Penelope snapped. "I can do things just the same as the rest of you can."

"Yes, we know," JJ said soothingly. "We've all seen it. You don't have to prove anything to us, Pen. You've already more than proven yourself capable. What we need you to be right now is our brilliant technical guru – you could be the one to catch this scumbag so we can go home to the kids and have a few normal days before the next case."

Penelope grumbled under her breath and took a bite of salad, letting it drop. But she knew Derek would upbraid her at the hotel later, so she was already getting into argument mode in her head. She glanced up from her food to see Devon walk into the restaurant. "Excuse me," she said, getting up and grabbing her phone before walking up to Devon. "So, what? Are you two stalking me now?" she asked on a hiss. "We're eating dinner."

"Can we step outside for a minute?" Devon asked. "Chuck is at the house. He thinks I went out to get beer."

"Fine," Penelope muttered, glancing over her shoulder and gesturing for them to stay put. She went out onto the front sidewalk with Devon, still in view of the front windows of the restaurant. "How did you know where we were going anyway?"

Devon shrugged. "Yellow Belly is closed," he said, "and this is the only other place you loved."

She sighed and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. "Why are you here?"

"Because I wanted to say I'm sorry I just kind of – I sprung Chuck on you and it didn't go well."

"Ya think?" Penelope acknowledged wryly. "You had no right to get involved."

"He's my –"

She held up a hand. "I've spent years trying to get away from all of this, Dev. I finally stopped blaming myself for what happened – but it took Derek and my kids and a million and one hard knocks in my life to get that it wasn't my fault. And then Chuck just up and…"

"He spent years looking for you," Devon said softly. "He wants to make amends."

"It's too late for amends." She shook her head and sighed. "He made it very clear that he wanted nothing more to do with me. And I made sure that I did my best to erase myself from systems he could possibly access. Just so he could have his fucking wish. So don't talk to me about amends, Devon."

"You're being stubborn."

She turned away from him, shaking her head as she took two steps toward the door. But then Penelope spun on her heel and stomped right back to him, getting right up in his face, finger jabbing furiously into his chest. "Don't you DARE talk to me about being stubborn," she shouted. "Don't even do it. I do NOT have to explain myself to you, Devon Williams – you are not my father, or my husband, or anything to me but the stupid boy in high school that couldn't even get me off even though I gave you a fucking diagram and enough blow jobs to sink a battleship! So fuck off and leave me alone." This time, she did flounce back into Marco's, feeling just as much of a bitch as she probably sounded.

And her dinner was waiting for her, as well as curious stares around the table.

She shrugged and set her phone on the table. "Ex-boyfriend," she said cheerfully. "So, how about this pasta, eh?"

"He's cute," Rossi said sarcastically, "but I like Morgan better."

"Gee, thanks, Dad," Derek said sarcastically. "Baby Girl –"

"Just shut up and eat," Penelope instructed. "He'll be bothering me again tomorrow, as apparently, he's been appointed my liaison in the department. But don't worry your gorgeous head about it. I will put him in his place – with force if necessary."

"I'd like to sell tickets to that," Emily commented wryly. She paused and said, "Hey, this pasta is pretty damn good."

"Hence why I always come back," Rossi said.

"Not nostalgia?" Penelope asked in a soft voice, knowing just how much her mother had hurt him.

"Now, it's because of you," Rossi replied, a tiny smile on his lips. "And because my little girl likes it."

It was enough to replace her scowl with a smile as she sank into her penne.

* * *

><p>July 9, 2012<br>10:27 PM PDT

She'd been in the shower for so long that her fingers and toes were beyond wrinkled. It just felt so good to feel the water coursing down her body, washing away her sins and her exhaustion and all the muck of the day – both literal and figurative. Every time she thought about turning the water off and getting into pajamas, she stayed her hand and slipped back under the showerhead.

The advantage of hotels: many, many water heaters.

She protested slightly when Derek pulled back the curtain, but not too much, because the sight of him gloriously naked – as blurry as it was – reminded her just how lucky she was. He joined her under the water, holding her tightly around the waist from behind. "I was beginning to think you'd disappeared into another dimension or something – you've been in here almost an hour, sweetheart," he said, his voice barely carrying over the water pounding down on them.

"It felt too good to get out," she replied, gently running her fingers over his slick, wet arms. "But I should let you get cleaned up so we can rest."

"You and me in a shower and you want to leave?" Derek teased, kissing her shoulder. When she leaned her head over, exposing more of her neck, he nibbled on it and smiled against her skin. "Where's the fun in that?"

"We're both exhausted," she reasoned weakly, "and we have to be up at five –"

"So you're not up for it?"

It was the one time she really didn't. "Not tonight, Sugar," she said with a sigh. "I just… today has been too much for me. It's been a crazy hinky first day back at work."

"Yeah, it has," Derek acknowledged. "Okay, so you should definitely get dried off and in bed, old woman."

"I'll old woman you," Penelope said, smacking him. "You think you're so damn funny –"

"I just want you to be happy, Baby," he said, hugging her tighter before releasing her. "So tonight, we'll cuddle – and when the case is over, we'll fuck like bunnies."

She laughed. "I love you, but there's something wrong with you, Derek Morgan. I don't know what it is just yet, but one of these days, I'm going to figure it out and then I'm going to lord it over your head."

"I'll be waiting," he teased, giving her a sweet, tender kiss, before he smacked her on the ass. "Now stop distracting me. I need to soap down."

It took almost all of the energy she had left to get dried off and into her pjs, let alone into bed. She ended up just passing out face down on top of the duvet, and she didn't know when Derek joined her, or even if he did. It felt too good to just sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

I don't own Criminal Minds or anything even remotely affiliated with the show. If ONLY I was so fucking cool. Instead, I own a ton of nail polish and some really funky shoes.

* * *

><p>Part twenty-nine:<p>

* * *

><p>July 10, 2012<br>7:36 AM PDT

As much as she would like to have denied it, the thought of going back to work was giving Penelope indigestion – and she hadn't even gotten breakfast yet. Hotch and Rossi bought a box of danishes and large cups of coffee for the team, but she'd made a beeline for the coffee and avoided the sugary pastry trap. It's a trap! She briefly wondered how Derek managed not to put on any weight, though, as he dove into the pastry box with a boyish grin on his face – probably the last smile of the day.

"You gonna eat something, Mama?" he asked.

"Not out of that box," Penelope grumbled.

Rossi smirked. "That's why I brought you an English muffin and egg sandwich," he said, holding out a small bag. "Don't ever say I don't take care of you, kiddo."

Penelope smiled and took the bag. "Thanks, but I'm not really hungry."

"A piece of advice, Penelope?" Hotch said. "Don't let the bastards get you down. You know why you're here, and if they don't like it, they can suck it."

"Whoa, that's some strong language from our fearless leader," Emily said with a snort. "But he's right."

"Oooh, danishes," Reid said as he joined them, diving into the box. "Did anyone else have trouble sleeping last night?"

"Not so much, no," Penelope muttered.

"Oh, well – I couldn't turn my brain off," Reid said. "I kept thinking about the geographic profile v. the victimology v. the actual psychology behind the killing and, to be honest, something isn't right. I think we're missing something in the big picture."

"We're probably missing a lot in the big picture," JJ said, nursing her coffee tiredly. "Unsubs don't just leave us notes saying 'this is why I'm doing it' and 'this is where I'm dumping the next body'."

"Except this unsub has been leaving notes," Rossi reminded them. "Mind you, notes that make no sense to anyone but him – ramblings about things that happened between him or her and the target of their actual rage…"

Penelope sighed. "And this is another reason I'm not hungry. I'm just waiting for you guys to break out the crime scene photos."

Hotch cracked a smile. "You can kill a man in the blink of an eye, but you can't look at crime scene photos," he teased.

"One is real – the other isn't real to me," Penelope muttered. "And the less real it is, the more my mind fills in the blanks."

"Oh, that's no good," Emily said, wrinkling her nose. "This blackberry danish is kind of gross, by the way –"

They finished their early breakfast and team meeting relatively quickly, then adjourned to the police station. They were definitely earlier than most of the normal staff – thank god, because it gave Penelope the chance to avoid Devon. She settled into her purloined office and began going over the data she'd harvested the night previous. One thing about being a hacker – she could seriously destroy someone without much effort. She was hoping and praying that it would be so easy with this unsub.

She glanced up with the door knob turned, then she steeled herself for the worst. "Captain Garcia," she greeted in an even, unstressed tone that she'd been practicing in her head all morning, "I apologize for absconding with your office –"

"Save it," Chuck muttered. "I'm just here to get something and then I'm out." He fished around in one of the desk drawers and pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses. "I won't interfere with your work if you don't interfere with mine, Agent Garcia."

She opened her mouth to make a smart-ass remark, then closed it again with an audible sigh. "Fine, sir. Please route all communication requests through Agents Rossi or Morgan," she said in a clipped tone. She glanced up when she felt his gaze upon her, and said, "What? What did I do now to piss you off except exist in your space again?"

"You look just like your mother," Chuck said, then he was out the door and gone.

Penelope picked up the stapler and slammed it down on the desk. "If one more person tells me I look like my fucking dead mother, I'm going to teach them the fucking meaning of PAIN," she growled in fury, seething as she began to comb through the collected data from the night before.

She was most of the way into a fascinating breakdown of the internal schematics of the servers that hosted the dating site when her phone rang. "Morgan's House of Horrors – you stab 'em, we slab 'em… what can I help you with, Boy Genius?"

"Garcia, we have another body," Reid said. "Or pieces of one – and a USB drive with a note attached that says 'For Blondie'. We need you to go over the contents of the drive."

Penelope felt the blood draining from her face. "Oh. Oh god." She checked to make sure her weapons were still handy and within reach. "He has to be close to the investigation if he knows the person running tech has blonde hair."

"Yes," Reid agreed. "Hotch is sending Emily back to the station to act as your bodyguard while the rest of us follow leads in the field. No one goes in or out of the office you're in until Prentiss gets there, all right?"

"Does Derek know what's going on?" Penelope asked, getting up and walking to the window, peering through the blinds at the bustle of the station beyond the windows. She couldn't see anything unusual, but that didn't keep her from locking eyes with Devon before she stepped away.

"Yes. He's practically crawling the walls over here. Just try to remain calm and stay in the office until Emily gets there."

"Right," Penelope murmured. "Easier said than done, knowing that a psycho could be just on the other side of the glass at the zoo."

"You have your gun – and your knife," Reid reminded her.

"True," she agreed. "And… fuck. My coffee's out. Detective Williams should be sending someone in with a fresh cup in a few minutes. How do I explain why the door is locked?" she asked rhetorically, moving to lock the door – only to find that the lock was broken. "Shit. The door doesn't lock."

"The unsub most likely won't try anything if you keep things normal," Reid advised. "Let them bring you the coffee, keep working –"

"Easy for you to say," Penelope muttered.

"Emily will be there in fifteen minutes," Reid said. "It'll be okay."

"My first case in the field and I'm already feeling the urge to hide in my office and never come out again," Penelope said with a sigh. "I don't need a bodyguard –"

"Maybe not, but you shouldn't be alone," Reid reasoned. "I have to go. Please don't do anything crazy."

"I won't," she promised. She hoped she would be able to keep that promise.

Instead of pacing the office, she slipped back behind the desk and spent the next few minutes setting up the secondary webcam and hiding it – just in case. If anything happened, the room feed would be recorded onto the FBI mainframe and uploaded to the BAU tablets. It wasn't difficult to program or execute, and she felt a little more secure even just doing that. It would only take a simple couple of keystrokes to enable the cascade.

She barely glanced up when there was a knock on the door. "Leave the coffee on the desk," Penelope instructed. "And make sure that Detective Williams knows I'm not to be disturbed after Agent Prentiss gets here."

It took her a moment to realize that there wasn't a new mug of coffee on the desk. And it took exactly two seconds more to comprehend that the profile was at least partially wrong.

"Put your gun on the desk," the policewoman said, "and push it toward me."

Penelope knew if she didn't comply, she was very likely to get shot again, so she did exactly what she was bidden. "I'll do what you ask," she said very quietly.

"Did I tell you to fucking talk?" the policewoman hissed.

"No," Penelope replied, trying to assess the situation before Emily arrived and walked into a hornet's nest. "Can I –"

"Close the computer and shut it down," the woman said. "It's going with us."

"I'm not going anywhere," Penelope said in an unyielding tone. "You can take the laptop, though – it's junk. I need a new one."

"Shut the fuck up."

Penelope exhaled lowly and set the sequence under the guise of shutting down the laptop. Once it was done, she closed the lid held up her hands in submission.

"Pick up your phone," the woman ordered, gesturing with her sidearm. "And dial the one person you love most – because you're going to tell them goodbye."

Penelope picked up the iPhone and thought for a moment before she dialed Emily.

"Hey, I'll be there in five –"

"I need you to do me a favor," Penelope said very quietly. "Tape Declan's game for me and put it on YouTube. I'm not going to be there. And tell the kids I love them." She hung up and looked up at the unsub, tears springing into her eyes on cue. Fake it till you make it, as she'd been told so many, many times.

She knew Emily would be on the phone to the others in seconds – it was an old code, but it was theirs. It was the only way to ensure that no one else came into the room. But that meant that Penelope was on her own, one way or another.

"What the hell was that?" the woman demanded.

"You told me to call the person I love most," Penelope muttered. "But I can't because my children are across the country and in school – "

The butt of the gun slammed into the side of her head. She didn't realize she'd blacked out till she was coming to and found herself on the floor. "Fuck," she muttered.

"Oh, look, Blondie's awake," the unsub said snidely, grabbing Penelope by the hair and hauling her up from the floor. "Your little friends are out there, trying to find a way in here, I'm sure – that bitch Prentiss looks like she's going to shoot the windows out."

"You know you're not leaving this room alive," Penelope pointed out through gritted teeth. Her head hurt so badly and she was seeing triple – not even her glasses could right the dizzying sway of the room.

"Of course I'm not – but the point is, neither are you," the woman sneered. "You all think you're so smart, but you didn't know that I was female… or in law enforcement."

"Profiles aren't always right," Penelope whispered. "Please let go of my hair. I'm going to throw up –"

"Do it and I'll shoot you," the woman warned, tightening her grip on Penelope's hair till Penelope registered that the scream she heard ringing in her ears was her own.

She was in an untenable position: injured, physically dominated, and alone. She had made sure that no one was coming into the room. If there was a casualty, it would just be her.

"Why are you doing this?" Penelope croaked when the pain became as normal as breathing.

"Because the fat, ugly girls don't deserve anything but to be put out of their misery," the woman hissed. "Are you telling me that someone actually fucked you? Because you're just a piece of shit."

"I'm sure my husband would disagree with you on that," Penelope said. This time, the blow didn't surprise her, and she definitely wasn't surprised when her return to consciousness was being hauled up from the floor by her scalp again. She felt blood trickling down her face into her eye and bit back a torrent of foul language at the stinging that left her all but blind in her right eye.

She heard the blinds get raised and then fall again. Presumably, she was on display as a trophy, a showpiece – look at what I can do. Penelope swallowed her pride and closed her eyes, knowing that the end would come quickly if she could just get the woman to let her go for just a minute.

The door opened and she heard a voice, soothing and not at all rough, say, "I'm unarmed. I know you're angry with Penelope – and all the other women you've hurt – but you need to let her go. She has a family."

"Do you really think I give a FUCK?" the woman snapped, releasing her hold on Penelope long enough to shoot the intruder.

It was enough.

Penelope rolled, ignoring the dizziness and the nausea and the blood, pulling her knife from its sheath on her thigh, plunging it into the woman's thigh, severing the femoral artery in a jagged cut. The unsub got off one more shot, but then she was on the floor and Penelope took the chance to grab the gun and put a bullet between her eyes – despite her vision, she managed it somehow. Then she was stumbling toward her father, who was sitting against the door.

She didn't make it but a couple of steps before she collapsed. The carpet was scratchy and she couldn't move anymore. She really needed to fucking retire to a desk job forever. She was way too old for this bullshit. Concussions and being scalped with someone's bare hands were injuries for the young pups. She wanted to die from carpal tunnel syndrome and tendonitis.

"Thank god for Kevlar," Rossi was saying as they helped him off the floor. "Get the medics – Penelope's not moving."

She tried to make her mouth work but her body wasn't having any of it. She went along with the paramedics, only realizing after she was on the stretcher with Derek's hand clasped firmly around hers that her glasses had been gone since she'd blacked out the second time. "Baby Girl, no more field work for you," Derek joked softly in the ambulance.

"Nuh-uh," she finally managed to force out.

"You're gonna be fine," he promised. "Just relax."

She hated that she could feel the blood on her hands and on her head – and, damn it, all over her shoes and her favorite dress. But she knew that it would be okay once the headache passed and she had clean clothes to change into.

A couple of hours later, she was tucked up in a hospital bed with an IV drip of powerful painkillers and a loopy grin on her face. It was a pretty bad concussion, but as long as she didn't show any signs of a brain bleed by morning, she was good to get the hell out of the hospital and go home and do things that didn't involve physical combat.

"Hot Stuff, I wanna make out, but I can't feel my lips," Penelope giggled, using her fingers to push on her lips to emphasize the point. "I might be a little stoned," she admitted.

"Only a little?" Derek teased, kissing her forehead. "Your dad's going to be fine – he's just got a bruise."

"I told Emily to keep everyone out," Penelope pouted.

"He saw you and lost it," he whispered. "I lost it – I almost went through the window before Hotch and JJ held me back. But Rossi just put on his Kevlar and said he'd be damned if he was going to lose his daughter to another fucking psycho. And he walked in there bold as brass balls."

Penelope sighed then giggled. "I have more balls than the men on the team!"

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes, dear," he said, defeated.

"Did you guys get my video feed?" she asked, suddenly remembering.

"Yes," he said simply.

"It was insurance," she mumbled.

"Hey, now, no sleeping for you," Rossi said as he came into the room. "Derek, why don't you go get some coffee and let the others know what's going on?"

"Dad," Penelope said, cursing herself for being weak when she started crying at the sight of the man who took a bullet for her.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Rossi assured her, pulling her into a hug. "I'm fine, Kitten. A little sore, but okay – but I hear you have something not quite right with your head."

"Yeah, it hurts like someone hit me with a brick wall," she mumbled, swiping at her eyes. "And my scalp burns like a son of a bitch – I have a bald spot in the back of my head. I'm so embarrassed."

"Hair grows back," he assured her. "It'll be okay, Penelope. I promise."

"And I'm flying high on whatever's in this IV," she said, tugging at the tubing.

"Hey, stop that," Rossi scolded. "You just lie still and behave. You really did something brave and foolish today, little girl –"

"Not foolish," Penelope said. "You just walking in there when I specifically told Emily no one was supposed to come in –"

"She was going to kill you, Penelope."

"I know," she sighed in exasperation. "But she SHOT you."

"Penelo-"

"I knew she was going to hurt anyone coming in that door," Penelope interrupted him sharply. "I would rather her hurt me than any of you. I can take it. But if I lost any of you – I couldn't. And if Derek walked in there – Daddy, I –"

"Stop," Rossi ordered, pushing her hair back out of her face, examining the butterfly stitches on her forehead. "You are the sweetest woman I'm ever going to know, but I'm going to kick your ass if you don't shut up and rest."

She huffed and pouted, but was amused when he kissed her forehead where the stitches were. Derek had done that earlier in a gesture reminiscent of her mother kissing wounds in her childhood. "I'm an adult, Dad," she said in a firm tone, despite the fact that she felt a little like limp spaghetti. "I had to make a choice."

"Right now, the only choice I want you making is the one where you rest," Rossi sighed. "And stop choosing to put yourself in danger. I only just found you, for god's sake – I refuse to have you taken away."

"I don't want to be in the field anymore," Penelope said. "I just want to sit back in my office and be bored. I like that much better."

"Good girl," he praised, smiling. He glanced up at the doorway and frowned. She tried to turn her head to look, but got dizzy mid-process and closed her eyes. "Captain Garcia, we requested immediate family only –"

"She's my sister, for god's sake. And if it's immediate family, what gives you the right to –"

"She's my daughter," Rossi said, losing his cool. "After the way you treated her yesterday, I think Penelope made it pretty damn clear where you rate on the scale of her family."

"Dad, stop," Penelope said softly, putting her hand on his arm to restrain him. "Just stop. This has to end. And maybe it's good that I'm out of it while I'm saying this, but I think maybe I was wrong and I should listen to Captain 'I'm a jackass'. Can you wait outside a few minutes? You can listen and step in any time you want, but –"

"Kitten, are you sure that's what you want?" Rossi asked, his eyes filling with confused frustration – with her or the situation or what, she couldn't tell… only that he was frustrated.

"I think so, yeah," she murmured. "I'll be fine."

Rossi lifted up his hands in surrender. "Okay, Kitten – I'll wait outside," he said. "But you'd better believe I'm in here in a split second if –"

She smiled. "Daddy, I'm stoned, not incapable," she reminded him. Besides, she could easily strangle someone with her IV tubing if she had to.

"Right – I keep forgetting," he said with a wan smile. "What with the shooting and the knife-wielding and killing people with shoes and all." Rossi got up and went to the doorway. "So help me god, if you so much as raise your voice, Captain, I will be in here like the wrath of fucking GOD and you will not get a chance to explain yourself," he said through clenched teeth.

"Dad," Penelope sighed, "would you please just wait outside? I'm not a little princess anymore – let me handle my own battles."

Chuck approached the bed, finally, and sat down on the uncomfortable chair, wincing. "How the hell do people sit in these?" he muttered.

"I don't know, but Dad and Derek got over it pretty quickly the last time I was in the hospital." Penelope's smile faded around the edges, but she kept it on for his benefit.

"The last time – how many times have you –"

"Too damn many – I need to retire to my cave and stay there because no one can hurt me online," she replied cheerfully. "I see you inherited your dad's bald spot."

"I see you inherited your mom's ability to deliver a low blow," Chuck challenged.

"Nah, that's years of training – this girl had to learn it the hard way," she teased softly. "When I left your place that night, I didn't know where I was going or what I was going to do. But now? I've had enough experiences to last a lifetime. I've killed more people than I ever wanted to. I've got three incredible kids and a husband who worships the ground I walk on – and I found my real father, Chuck. And he's a good man. I've got everything I could have really wanted, and all because I picked up my pride and let you kick me out the door."

"I knew the next morning that I made a huge mistake," he sighed, scratching the top of his head and frowning. "But I couldn't find you, no matter how hard I tried."

"Because I blocked your searches and made sure they went nowhere," she said. "You accused me of being the reason our parents were dead. And I already believed I was – so it was a logical progression. I went off the rails for a while there, till the CIA picked me up. Agent Prentiss was my partner for almost four years, and after that, I was undercover and underground for almost ten. I'm not ashamed to say that you made my life better for throwing me out on my ass." Penelope smiled shakily. "Like I said: I have three beautiful kids, a husband who loves me, and a family that I wouldn't trade for all the tea in China."

"You worked for the CIA?"

She chuckled. "Is that so difficult to believe?"

"To be honest, yeah," Chuck said, his frown deepening. "How on earth did you manage –"

"I'm a computer hacker," she said simply. "I crack code, write code, encode, decode, recode, and some days, I run searches for the team. But most of the time, I'm screwing around. The CIA caught me cracking one of their most secure databases and rather than prosecuting me, made me one of them. And when I got out of purgatory, I moved to the FBI, where I use my talents for good."

"That explains why I couldn't find you."

She nodded. "I didn't want you to, so I didn't let it happen. As far as you and the other three were concerned, I didn't exist anymore. I figured if you were so mad at me for what happened, why wouldn't Jim, Brad, and Juan be, too?"

"They never blamed you. I did, because I had to ID the bodies and I knew you'd skipped curfew."

"If I hadn't skipped out, they would still be alive," Penelope murmured, "but if I hadn't skipped out, I would have throttled my mother with my bare hands. She was off her head, off her meds, and she pushed my last button. I had to get out of the house. I never wanted them to die, Chuck. You know that."

"I always knew it wasn't your fault," he admitted. "I just lost my temper. And I've had fifteen years to think about what I did, and I still fucked it up when you came back."

She stifled a chuckle. "I can't believe you told Derek to get his hands off me," she said.

"I didn't know you two were married," he defended. "They introduced you as Garcia –"

"So there wasn't more confusion with two Morgans on the team," she said with a tiny smile.

"Right – but he was getting all grabby and I went into overprotective big brother mode."

She laughed outright then. "Oh, please – you weren't the overprotective one. Brad's the one that sat Devon down and brought the wrath of god to the table."

Chuck snorted indelicately. "Ironic, isn't it? That I ended up with your ex."

She shrugged. "It's okay. You love who you love, and you're not meant to fight it or explain it."

"Yeah, well, it's made more than one person question whether or not I'm qualified to lead this station – especially when Devon is here, too. I have to tread a very fine line and not show any kind of favoritism or come down too hard on him so it's perceived as harassment."

Penelope nodded. "I think it's the same way with Derek and me, but the difference is that we're into sexually harassing each other in front of people," she said with a weary wink. "I could use a cup of coffee about now – before I fall asleep."

"No falling asleep," Rossi groused from the doorway. "You have to stay up at least five more hours, then you have another scan."

Penelope pouted at him. "I'm so tired, Dad –"

"Did she do this when she was a kid?" Rossi asked Chuck. "Whine till she gets her way?"

Chuck smiled. "All the time, Agent Rossi – all the time."

"You're not supposed to gang up on me," Penelope whined. "I'm the patient here –"

"Yeah, a mental patient," Derek said from behind Rossi. "You still haven't told me what the hell you were thinking, taking on the unsub by yourself, Baby Girl –"

"You don't want to hear her lame-ass explanation," Rossi told him.

She sighed and futzed with the IV tubing again. "Stop picking on me," she muttered.

"Hotch wanted to read you the riot act," Derek said, "but I reminded him that you get hostile when people are yelling at you – and after what you did today, the last thing he needs to do is get you worked up." He glanced at Chuck as he came into the room. "By the way, does this mean that you two are reconciling?"

"It means I'm stoned and making an effort," Penelope grumbled. "But I'll never forgive him completely."

"I'm not asking you to," Chuck said. "Just as long as you don't disappear again."

"She's not disappearing anywhere," Derek said firmly. "And if she tries it, there will be hell to pay."

"Not going anywhere, Hot Stuff," she assured him with a smile. "I couldn't imagine you raising the heathen children by yourself."

Derek snorted slightly. "Believe me, neither can I," he admitted. "How's your head, Goddess?"

"Hurts like hell," she replied cheerfully. "And the drugs aren't helping much with the pain – however, they're making me really sleepy, which is not good, since I'm supposed to be staying awake."

"So we're just going to have to take turns entertaining you," Rossi said with a smile.

"Emily's pacing the waiting room like a tiger," Derek said, sipping his coffee. "Maybe we should let her keep Pen company while we go start our case paperwork?"

"Oh, yes, please!" Penelope said.

"I should get back to the station and start supervising the clean-up," Chuck said. "But if your team can stay a couple days, maybe help profile a couple other small cases, I'll definitely make it worth your while."

"Talk to Hotch," Rossi said. "Morgan and I will definitely be staying with Penelope; the rest of the team is free to go as soon as Hotch says they are."

Penelope stifled a yawn. "Better get Em in here before I crash," she advised. "At least we'll be able to play poker or something."

"Have you ever played poker with her?" Chuck was asking Rossi as they left the room. "She's a frigging card shark –"

Penelope smiled over at Derek. "Hey," she murmured, "wanna share that coffee with me? I keep fading."

"No can do," Derek replied. "It'll interfere with things."

She pouted yet again, then sighed. "I know you're pissed at me for what I did, but I didn't have a choice –"

"Stop talking, Baby Girl," he insisted. "Just sit back and chill."

"Fine," she muttered, trying to get more comfortable. "I hate hospitals."

"So stop getting yourself put into a hospital bed," Derek advised.

She almost laughed at the simplicity of the statement, but it was glaringly obvious – blindingly so.


	30. Chapter 30

I do not own anything related to Criminal Minds. In fact, I don't even have a CM-themed t-shirt. I may have to rectify this situation. I do, however, have a veeeeerrrrrrrry nice shot of Shemar Moore in a towel as my desktop wallpaper. You do the math there. ;)

This part is for BettyTheGreat, for helping me keep my sanity the last few weeks – I owe you a good and smutty chapter, my darling.

* * *

><p>Part thirty!:<p>

* * *

><p>July 11, 2012<br>6:45 PM PDT

"I'm not sure I can do this," Penelope whispered, pulling Derek to a halt on the stairs of the porch. "Call me stupid, but –"

"Not stupid," he said softly. "You're nervous; it's understandable."

"I played over there – there used to be a sandbox," she said, gesturing at the corner of the yard. "I have so many memories here and so many of them aren't good." Her heart was thudding in her chest and her head was pounding – not even the drugs were working to correct that issue. It didn't help that she was incredibly dizzy still from her ordeal the day before. Concussions and family drama, oh my! Like the lions, tigers, and bears – only slightly more threatening.

"Well, maybe that's true," he said with a sad smile, "but think about this, Baby Girl – when we went to Mom's last month and I said the same thing, what did you do?"

"I told you to stop being silly, because you have me and the kids and nothing from back then can touch you when you have us. But I was just trying to distract you."

He kissed her forehead. "Mama, you have me. Nothing else matters: we'll face it all together," Derek said in the most achingly tender tone she'd ever heard out of him – he really was a softie in a hard package. "You know, someone's watching us out the window there; maybe we should go in before they send a search party?"

She took a deep breath and sighed. "If this goes downhill in a hurry, please promise me that we can just run like hell back to the hotel."

"Absolutely."

"And we can play poker with the others."

"Mama."

She shrugged. "I could always use more money – I've got three kids, you know." She took a step and paused, grabbing his arm with a white-knuckle grip as the dizziness got worse. "Fuck," she muttered, but he held her steady and didn't complain. When the dizzy spell passed, they continued to the front door, one step at a time.

Chuck was waiting for them when they reached the door. "Why don't you guys come in and sit down?" he suggested. "You're not looking so great, Nell."

"God, don't call me that," Penelope whined in protest. "Fine, fine, I'll sit down and relax like a good girl – if you bring me a glass of water. The vicodin is giving me dry mouth."

"Dinner will be ready in about half an hour," Chuck said, leading them into the living room – and, thank god, it looked completely different than it had the last time she'd been there. The bland earth tones of her childhood had been replaced with soothing tones of blue and yellow, and the room seemed smaller. Wasn't that just an effect of aging? Everything seemed so much larger when you were a kid. "Dev's making udon noodles with veggies."

"Sounds wonderful," she murmured, looking around as Chuck went to get her glass of water. "It's completely different," she said to Derek. "Everything is different."

"Is that good or bad?" he asked.

"Good." She turned to him with a shaky smile. "I used to get punished in that corner," she teased, pointing at the corner nearest the sliding glass door that led outside. "Mom would swat me on the butt and tell me to stand there and look out the door at what I couldn't do because I was a bad kid. And I was a horrible kid – just ask Chuck, here."

"Nah," Chuck said, shaking his head. "No worse than any other kid."

"Are you forgetting the time I accidentally set the shed on fire with a sparkler?" Penelope challenged. "I was grounded for a YEAR and it wasn't even my fault."

"How the hell –" Derek began, but stopped and shook his head when she glared at him. "Nevermind."

"In case you were wondering," Chuck said, "we didn't change anything in your old room. I knew you'd be back sometime and you'd want your stuff."

She sipped her water and shook her head. "Not so much, no," she murmured. "It's okay – I understand." Maybe, once upon a time, she'd wanted her frigging teddy bear or that stupid necklace her grandmother had given her for her birthday – but now, she didn't care anymore. It wasn't about the things: it was about everyone she had in her life.

"The others should be here soon," Chuck said.

Her resolve faltered, then failed completely. "The others?" she echoed.

"Juan, Brad and Jim – and their families."

"You just – you invited everyone?" she said weakly, looking over at Derek in panic. "Chuck, I can't do this – I'm a mess and they probably all blame me as much as you did –"

"Nelly," Chuck said firmly, "I didn't tell them you were here, only that we needed to have a family meeting. You wouldn't know the kids, now – they're all grown up. Sharon has a master's in computer sciences, Greg is a nurse – he was one of your nurses yesterday, by the way."

"Stop," Penelope said, holding up her hand. "I need to go. I can't do this."

"Sweetheart," Derek murmured, "are you sure?"

She knew the panic, the need for avoidance, wasn't leaving her eyes. She honestly felt like she couldn't handle fifteen years of guilt slamming into her at once. Her head was beginning to pound to an extent that she was seeing blinding little white stars around the edges of her vision. Her chest was tight and it was difficult to keep breathing; her bruises were throbbing and she felt queasy at the thought of facing her brothers and their wives and kids. "I –"

"Because I'm right here with you, Mama," her husband whispered, tucking her hair back behind her ear and adjusting the scarf that was covering the bald spot on the side of her head. "And I'm not going anywhere – but if you really need to go, just say the word. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, sweetheart. That's a promise."

"I need air," she croaked, twining her fingers with his. "Come outside with me, Derek, please." She didn't even spare Chuck a glance before she got to her feet and dragged Derek outside. "I walked away from all of this because I was forced to, and now I'm not the same person that left," she tried to explain, glancing around the back yard. The old wooden rope swing was still there; there was a shed and a rose garden that were new, but everything else was just the same as she remembered. "I can't just walk back into their lives and –"

"Slow your roll, Gorgeous," Derek whispered, pulling her into his comforting embrace, offering her a tender kiss. "You did what you had to. You aren't the same woman I met when Emily 'died' – how could you be the same woman that left this house fifteen years ago? You're so strong, Baby Girl, and you will get past this hurdle, too. And I'm right here with you."

"What did I do to deserve you?" she asked, tears springing into her eyes.

"You fell from heaven, Angel," he whispered, kissing her again. She couldn't get over how every kiss they shared was a new experience. Some were angry, some were full of lust, some were so very, very sweet, and others were just meant to take comfort in. This one was a reassurance of their devotion to one another. "Hey, want me to call your dad or Emily and have them come be my backup?"

She smiled a little. "No," she whispered. "You're my handsome hunk of a husband and I should be used to showing you off by now, right?"

"Silly girl," Derek said softly, "what am I going to do with you?"

"I don't care, so long as you never stop loving me," she murmured, tucking her head against his shoulder. "I'm already tired of being dizzy – and Hotch isn't going to let me fly home."

"I know," he assured her. "I'll be driving us home. I'm sure the kids are missing us already; Brielle's probably –"

"I miss my babies," Penelope whispered, swiping at the tears trickling down her face. "I can't wait to get the all-clear to go home, Hot Stuff. I want to hear about Emma's crushes and Declan's homework and I want to cuddle Brielle and never let her go."

"I know," he exhaled. "Me, too. A couple of years ago, I would've laughed if someone told me I'd be a sensible family man with kids – but it's so right at this point of my life. And I've got the most fabulous wifey on the planet."

"Call me 'wifey' again and I'll –"

He grinned and kissed the top of her head. "There she is – there's my feisty Baby Girl," he teased. "Let's go back in, sweetheart. We have a family meeting to attend, don't we?"

Her heart fluttered: he wanted to be part of her family. They'd created their own, but she was part of his and now he wanted to be part of hers – or what was left of it. "Derek?"

"Hmm?"

"I know you've been talking a good mile about adopting Emma and Declan, but I want you to know that they want it as much as you do – and I want it, too," she said. "I want us to be a legal family, together. Does that even make sense? You're my kids' dad. That's it."

"Now isn't the time to talk about it," Derek said, his voice suddenly rough with emotion. "But I'm so glad you want that, too, Baby Girl – and we're going to make it happen."

"I love you so much," she whispered. "And you're too good to me."

"I'm no better than you deserve, gorgeous," he murmured. "Let's go inside. Dinner will be ready soon."

"Family dinners around here are a special kind of hell," she warned him. "Or, at least, they used to be."

He smiled at that. "I don't know any family dinners that aren't a little quirky here and there," he said. "Ours are never dull."

She giggled, thinking back to a few nights ago when Emma and Declan had randomly started singing 'Joy to the World' – the Three Dog Night version, not the hymn – during dinner. By the time Penelope and Derek had joined in, they'd been dancing and shrieking out the words and laughing like a bunch of crazy people. And that's how Rossi had found them when he walked in, bearing dessert. "If dinner at the Morgan's is ever dull, please have someone shoot us and put us out of our misery," she said, still chuckling. "God, Derek, I'm so scared right now. I'm going to walk into that room and –"

"And you're going to be Penelope Morgan, my wife, the mother of my children, and the strongest woman I've ever known," he insisted. "You don't need a gun or a knife to protect yourself, Mama Bear."

She straightened up a little bit and nodded. "You're right," she agreed. "And it's time for me to face the music - and grow the fuck up. Right?"

"You're grown up enough for me," he said, squeezing her hand and lifting her hand to his lips. "I love you, Mrs. Morgan."

"I love you, too, Mr. Morgan."

They walked back into the house and the living room suddenly fell silent, all eyes upon them. Penelope felt the blood draining from her face and got dizzy in a hurry. Derek grabbed her arm and steadied her. "Careful, Baby Girl," he said softly. "It's okay."

"I'm okay," she mumbled.

"No, you aren't," Chuck said, holding her other arm. "You need to sit down and relax."

"I have a concussion, not a fucking disability," Penelope muttered. "I'm FINE."

"Aunt Nelly, maybe you should sit down?" suggested Greg, standing up. "You don't look like you're following the doctor's directions at all."

She huffed, then sighed and let Derek and Chuck propel her into a chair. Derek sat on the arm of the recliner, hovering but not unwanted. He slipped his arm protectively around her shoulders, just possessively enough that she felt infused with his strength and he warned everyone else that funny business would not be tolerated in any way, shape, or form. "You want your meds, Mama?" Derek asked softly.

"No, I'll be fine," she said. "They'll just make me dizzier." She looked around the room and hesitantly lifted her hand and waved. "Hi," Penelope murmured, her voice hitching in her throat and coming out as little more than an ill-sounding croak.

The resulting silence in the room was so palpable it could have been cut with a butter knife. Finally, Chuck said, "Guys, it's just Nelly – she's not going to bite. Derek, I don't know about."

"I don't need to bite," Derek replied, "but I will if necessary."

"You don't look so good, Penelope," Juan said, his dark eyes narrowing in appraisal.

"Because she has a head injury, Dad," Greg interjected. "I was one of her nurses."

"Yeah," Penelope agreed, "but I didn't realize you were –"

"Kind of like I didn't realize till Uncle Chuck told me," Greg said. "And then I saw it – you look so much like Grammie."

"I tell her that and she tries to throttle me," Chuck said with a low laugh.

"Where have you been for fifteen years?" Brad asked, eyeing her warily.

"I… left," Penelope said quietly. "I was off the grid for a while, learned code, and I hacked one of the CIA databases and got caught. So, instead of throwing me in prison for cyberterrorism, I worked undercover for the Agency. I got too involved in a mission and they pulled me and hid me in plain sight in Cuba for almost ten years." She looked over at Derek and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. "My old mark died and I transferred to the FBI, where I work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit as Chief Technical Analyst. I'm married and have three kids and…" She looked at Derek helplessly. "And what? Hot Stuff, my life reads like a character study."

Derek kissed her forehead. "So what?" he asked. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone. You're here, Baby Girl." He glanced over at the others. "I'm Derek Morgan; Penelope's husband."

"Can we see pictures of your kids?" Liz asked with a small smile. Juan's wife had always seemed to have a soft spot for Penelope – in fact, she'd been at their house when her parents had died. She'd fallen asleep on the couch after crying until she thought she'd be sick, and when she woke up, she knew she'd not only missed curfew, but –

"Sure," Penelope murmured, retrieving her phone from her purse. "Emma is ten, Declan is almost ten, and Brielle is four months old." She smiled lovingly at the pictures she'd taken before selecting one that showed them all off to their best advantage and then she passed her phone around the room to Liz. "Emma is the reason I went underground in Cuba – her father was an arms dealer and he would likely have killed me if I hadn't been extracted," she said very quietly. "I wasn't his only lover: Declan's mother was… just as bad as he was. Another operative removed Declan from his father's home and brought him to the States and faked his death – but his mother found out and tried to do him harm once his father was dead." She felt the muscles in her face tense. "She didn't get a chance to lay a finger on her son: I killed her before she could hurt him. And I adopted him." Penelope paused, looking at the shocked faces around the room. "He's a good kid; he never should have been with his father," she said, trying to defend her actions. "And Brielle – god, my little kitten. We almost lost her."

"They're all gorgeous," Liz said, "and if you hadn't said that Declan wasn't yours, I wouldn't have been able to tell that he wasn't."

"He's as much mine as Emma and Brielle are," Penelope protested. "Maybe not biologically, but he calls us Mom and Dad just like Emma does." Liz passed the phone back and Penelope felt her features soften as she looked on her kids' faces again. "And they have such loving aunts and uncles within the BAU – we're a… dysfunctionally content family."

"She found her real father," Chuck spoke up. "His name is David Rossi and he works in the same unit at the FBI as these two."

Penelope sighed and eyed him. "Can you shut up and let me talk?" she inquired. "You always have to get in the last word, don't you, Chuck?"

"I was just going to say that he's a good guy – and that he's almost as protective of our girl here as Derek is," Chuck said, glowering at his baby sister. "So she's in good hands."

"You could have called us and told us where you were," Jim accused, getting up and walking out.

"He's just upset," Sharon said from her corner. "Dad thought you'd gone and gotten yourself killed or something."

"No, but some days, I wished I had," Penelope said, gently shrugging Derek off. "I'll be back in a few minutes, handsome."

"Are you sure, Mama?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," she promised. "Remember what we've been through the last year? This isn't even a scratch." She kissed Derek gently and said, "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes with Jim in tow, you can send a search party to find my body."

"Not even funny, Baby Girl."

She smiled and kissed him again. "I love you, caveman. Impress my family with your wit and charm, will you? Maybe they'll stop being mad at me if you do the misdirection thing."

"We're not mad at you," Liz and Sharon spoke up at the same time.

"Peanut gallery," Penelope said, pointing, "shush it." She got up and headed unsteadily for the front door, pausing once or twice to push back the dizziness. Head injuries really sucked. She didn't want any more of those. It was time to retire to a desk with computers and pictures of her kids for the rest of her career. Definitely.

Jim was sitting on the porch steps, looking out at the street like he'd always done since she could remember. "Sharon, I'm not –"

"You never blamed me for what happened," Penelope said softly, sinking onto the steps beside him, propping her elbows on her thighs, resting her chin on her hands. "You just came out here and sat for hours. And you cried when I came out and sat with you. Abby couldn't get you to let it out, but I did… why isn't she here?"

"Abby died four years ago," Jim said with a sigh that was somewhere between frustrated and sad. "Ovarian cancer."

She hesitated a moment, then slid her arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry I wasn't there – Abby was a wonderful woman," she whispered. "But four years ago… I couldn't have left Cuba or contacted anyone even if I wanted to. I was there for my own protection, and Emma's. I would do anything to keep my children safe, Jim. I… I wish things had been different, that we could have stayed a family. It's my fault this time, for real, and I'm going to do my best to make it right."

"You walked away from us – all of us."

"Chuck threw me out," she said simply. "I didn't want to stay where I wasn't wanted. You didn't hear the things he said, so you can't pass judgment on me for walking away. After that, I couldn't have come back if I tried. I was in so deeply over my head that I couldn't see the sun for all the water. And I convinced myself that you'd all hate me for running away like I did. Because I was stupid and reckless and I didn't have anyone to reign me in anymore."

He sighed and lowered his head into his hands. "Penelope, I needed you – I needed my little sister – and you just disappeared."

"And now I've reappeared like a bad magic act," she whispered. "Jimmy, c'mon. I'm sorry. I am. You were always my best bro – hey, don't cry. Don't cry." She hugged him tighter. "I'm not going away again, Jimmy. I'm just going to be a phone call or Skype or whatever away. I'm not walking away again, I promise. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His tears made hers flow as well. All of the pain and suffering was gone in the wake of their shared misery.

She pulled the scarf out of her hair and used it to wipe her eyes, then offered it to Jim. He gaped at her for a moment, then asked, "What happened to you?"

Penelope smiled sadly. "I almost got killed by a crazy cop," she said. "It's, surprisingly, not the worst injury I've had in the last couple of years. I just look like a freak at the moment. And feel like I got hit by a train."

"Your husband loves you."

"I wouldn't be with him if he didn't," she murmured. "I don't deserve him, at all – but he thinks it's the other way around: that he doesn't deserve me. I don't know where he'd get a crazy idea like that. Clearly, he could have anyone he wanted –"

"He wants you," Jim said with a small smile. "It's written all over him – Property of Penelope Garcia."

She blushed and smiled. "Yeah, well… maybe we should go back in? Dev should have dinner ready by now. And we can talk more – or, better yet, you should fly to Quantico and stay with us. There's always room for more, and the kids would love you, Uncle Jim."

They went inside and Devon did have dinner ready. Derek began his hovering again, but when was that not normal now?

* * *

><p>July 11, 2012<br>9:28 PM PDT

"Thirty-six," Penelope said, glancing across the table at Jim.

"Pass," Sharon muttered.

"Of course you'd leave me high and dry with the bidding that high," Greg muttered.

"Pass," Jim said.

"What about it, then, kid?" Penelope said. "Wanna try?"

"Thirty-eight," Greg snapped.

"Forty," she replied cheerfully, glancing down at her cards. Even without the trade from Jim, she was holding a double Pinochle and a run. She could take the whole table.

"It's yours," Greg grumbled.

"Oh, trump is definitely spades," Penelope replied, winking at Jim. Once they'd traded the required number of cards, she chuckled and laid down her meld – a run in spades, aces around, and a double Pinochle. She literally laid her entire hand down.

"Holy crap," Liz said, laughing. "I think these pussies forgot how to play, Nelly –"

"No, they just didn't have the card shark around to give them a run for their money," Penelope replied with a chuckle. "Now, let's play –"

"You'll take everything," Sharon whined. "Greg and I will go set."

"Play it anyway," Penelope said with a grin. She glanced up at Derek, who was watching with no small amount of confusion. "Aw, baby, what's that face for? Should Mama teach her Hot Stuff how to play Pinochle?"

"It's like a game from another planet," Derek muttered. "I at least understand poker – and the bluffing, right before you rip the carpet out from under me."

She giggled and tugged him down for a kiss. "It's French, mon ami – and the French do love a good, complicated card game. It's our family game, though, so I should teach you – and the kids."

"Your go," Sharon said pointedly. "Seriously, if you're going to kick my ass, can you hurry up and do it?"

Penelope rolled her eyes and played her cards through the round, letting Jim take the growing pile as they took trick after trick. In the end, they won the hand by an immense percentage – Greg and Sharon only took two face cards.

"Now, see, there's the Nelly I remember," Juan said with a chuckle.

"Someone bring me a glass of juice – there's no way this lucky streak is going to hold," Penelope teased. Derek returned a minute later with a glass of juice and her pain pills, knowing full well that she was going to fight taking them till she was in agony. She glanced up at him and took in his worried look; he knew she was pushing it. "Thank you, Angelfish," she murmured, taking the pill and turning her attention back to the table. "Last hand, then I need to go crash and burn."

"I'm going to crush you, Aunt Nelly," Sharon vowed with a smirk as she shuffled the cards.

The other table laughed at her naivety; after all, Sharon had only been seven when Penelope left. She thought she was tough and bad-ass, but Penelope could wipe her off the face of the earth without much effort. It would be nice to let her win a hand, though. Just so no one could accuse her of being a bad aunt.

She thought she'd forgotten how to play, but one round and it had all come back to her, right down to the competitive bidding and the teamwork that she and Jim pulled off effortlessly. "Hot Stuff, Jim's going to come visit us soon. He needs some time away," she commented as she looked down at her total junk hand. "If that's okay?" she asked, looking up at Derek.

He smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. "Silly girl, your whole family is welcome whenever – and if we run out of room at the inn, your dad has a frigging mansion."

Penelope grinned. "He does," she said cheerfully. "And he doesn't like saying no to his little girl, does he?" She winked at him.

The doorbell rang and Chuck frowned. "Who on earth would be showing up at this hour?" He laid down his cards and made his way to the front door. When he came back, he said, "Nelly, your team is here to check on you." He stepped aside to let the rest of the team into the room.

"You look better than you did this morning, Kitten," Rossi said, coming over to kiss her. "Have you taken your pills?"

"Getting stoned on vicodin even as we speak," she replied happily. "I open," she said, getting the bidding going. "Did you guys have a good dinner?"

"We went down to Chinatown and had some good dumplings," Reid said. "But the rest of the meal fell flat."

"Yeah, we all kind of missed you and Morgan," JJ said with a tiny smile.

"Eighteen," Sharon said.

"Twenty-two," Jim said instantly. Penelope raised her eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes slightly and she stifled a laugh – he had just as little in his hand as she did, but he wasn't going to let his kid have the bid without working for it.

"Pass," Greg said. "I'm beginning to think you all are stacking the deck against me."

"Twenty-three," Penelope replied, smiling at her niece.

"Twenty-six," Sharon said.

"Thirty," Jim replied.

"Too rich for me," Penelope laughed, laying down her cards. "Pass."

Sharon paused for a moment then said, "Thirty-one."

"It's all yours, kiddo," Jim said.

"They're playing Pinochle," Derek explained to the team.

"I love Pinochle," Reid said. "You didn't tell me you played, Garcia –"

"Because I didn't play for a damn long time," Penelope said with a deep chuckle, "and you, my dear, are a card-counting genius who still can't beat me at poker. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Your mother tried to teach me this game once," Rossi said. "I kind of failed at it, so we went back to having hot monkey sex instead."

Penelope winced and looked around the room. "Guys? My dad. Dad, the Garcia clan. Hot monkey sex with my mom shouldn't be discussed in public."

Rossi smirked. "What good is a parent if they can't embarrass you in public, sweetheart?"

"Don't forget I carry," she replied cheerfully. "Don't think I won't shoot you, Daddy."

Emily laughed and said, "Dave, don't test her – she's getting fuzzy around the edges already."

"Shut up, EP," Penelope sighed, rolling her eyes.

When it came down to the hand itself, Sharon and Greg took all but one trick. "Boo-yah!" Sharon shouted, jumping up. "In your FACE, Aunt Nelly!"

Penelope laughed. "I guess I'm still a little rusty," she said, winking at Jim and getting up to hug Derek. "Hey, baby, I'm sleepy – let's go back to the hotel."

"Penelope?" Devon said, smiling over at them. "You're welcome any time, you know."

She nodded and grinned. "Now I do," she said.

"You always were," Chuck said, looking sad, tired, and old. "But I was an ass and I know it."

"Forgiven," Penelope said, holding up her hand. "Now, my gorgeous handsome hunk of chocolate, get me to bed before I fall over." She accepted hugs and kisses from her family and gave them back with gusto – hoping that sooner, rather than later, they would be able to get together again. When Jim hugged her, he lifted her off the ground and she laughed. "Jimmy, you get on a plane and bring your retired old man butt to Virginia – you hear me?"

"As soon as I can," Jim promised. "Derek – take good care of her, okay?"

"Always, man," Derek agreed, bumping fists with Jim. "And what she said – come over any time."

As they walked back to the SUVs, Hotch said, "We're flying back in the morning, but you and Morgan have until the 16th to be back at work. I pulled some strings."

Penelope nodded and sighed. "It's a long drive home," she said softly. "I wish I could fly with; I miss my babies something fierce right now."

Derek hugged her and kissed her forehead. "Mama, let's get you to the hotel before you start crying again. Silly girl."

"Silly boy," she protested, poking him in the chest. "You just wanna get your red hot stoned Mama into your bed so you can ravish me."

"TMI," JJ said, laughing, as she got into the SUV.

"You need your rest, Baby Girl," Derek reminded her with a grin and a wink.

"Oh, I'll rest when I'm dead," she replied, knowing full well that she'd be out like a light before they even reached the hotel. And that Derek would have to carry her upstairs.

But wasn't that what a sculpted hot hunk of a god husband was for?


	31. Chapter 31

I still don't own a thing related to Criminal Minds, and maybe that's for the best. Thanks to everyone who's waited for this chapter and read Love Defies Even Me in the meanwhile – because I was stuck on this. Lol

* * *

><p>July 14, 2012<br>6:03 PM CDT

* * *

><p>They stopped in St. Louis for the night – Derek swore he could keep going, but Penelope was entirely too persuasive when she saw just how exhausted he was. Twelve hours in the car and he was drooping like a flower in a hot house. "Baby, let's not push it," she murmured. "I'll drive part-way tomorrow if I'm feeling up to it – you're tired, I'm tired, let's stop and get some rest."<p>

He sighed and finally complied, stopping at a hotel somewhere just off of I-255. "We're lucky the Cardinals aren't playing at home," Derek said. "Or there'd be no hotels to be had."

She smiled softly and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I love you, Mr. Morgan," she said softly. "In case I haven't said it yet today because I've been sleeping in the car like a toddler on a roadtrip."

He laughed and said, "Believe me, you throw a tantrum like a toddler – or at least you did when I woke you up for lunch."

She grinned cheekily at him and whispered, "Well, you woke me up – I think that's the sticking point. I was having such a nice dream about being ravished by…"

"Your chocolate god of thunder?"

"Pasty little white boy Reid," she contradicted with a sly glance his way.

"Baby Girl, you'd better take that back before I take you over my knee and paddle those horrible images right out of your head," Derek growled. "NO ONE gets play in my woman's head but me."

"Then why don't you get us checked in and we can go upstairs and continue this… discussion," she teased, tickling his arm with her nails. "Unless you want me dreaming about Reid again –"

"Mama, I am not an irrationally jealous man, but if you mention Reid one more time, I'm going to punch the kid in the face when we get home."

She chuckled and winked at him as he helped her out of the car. "This time, Hot Stuff, you'd better be getting one bed – not two. Don't you dare try to tell me they made a mistake last night in Denver because you're a big fat liar – AND you slept all by your lonesome in the second bed." She'd been incredibly pissed about it when she woke up cold and alone in the middle of the night, but had to admit there was something endearing in him thinking she'd be better off without him rolling around. Though it didn't stop her from tossing and turning and making herself nauseated.

"Mama Bear –"

"I can't sleep without you, stupid," she muttered. "I was up almost all night because my hot chocolate was nowhere to be found." Penelope pouted at him. "And you were just off in the other bed, snoring like a freight train…"

"Penelope Anne Garcia Morgan, I do not snore," Derek grumbled warningly.

"You were snoring last night," she contradicted. "Let's face it: neither of us sleeps well alone anymore."

"I didn't want to keep you from sleeping because I –"

She smiled indulgently. "Oh, Hot Stuff, do you think I'm not used to you getting dirty and sexing me up in your sleep by now? How do you think we got Brielle?" she teased.

"Oh, believe me, she was a product of that first round of hot shower sex," he growled as they walked past a pack of elderly women who were waiting for a bus to the casino. "There's no other way, Red Hot Mama."

She blushed as all the old women turned and stared at them. "Derek, we're in public –"

"Yeah, and in public, I'm going to say that my wife is the sexiest woman on the planet and she brings me to my knees every fucking day –"

"Derek!"

"It's the goddamn truth, Penelope."

Her blush faded into a smile. "Yes, it is, isn't it?"

He grinned and led her inside. Once they were checked in – to a room with a single King sized bed, at Penelope's marked insistence – he left her upstairs in the room to go get their go-bags. They'd done laundry in Denver before they left, so at least they had clean clothes, if nothing else.

When he came back, he stopped short upon seeing his wife lounging around on the bed in nothing but her underwear. "Baby Girl, what –"

"I was hot and didn't want to get up and turn up the a/c."

"Penelope –"

She lifted an eyebrow. "What, you aren't enjoying the view, Hot Stuff?"

"You're supposed to be resting," he sighed.

She didn't like his tone, lost somewhere between the corners of Caring and Suffering over on the High Road. "I slept in the car," she pointed out, "because you put on classical music."

"Best music to drive to," he defended, setting down their bags and crossing his arms over his chest. "Baby Girl, rest does not mean get your hot ass all sexy for your man and then drive him crazy – just to fall asleep when the meds kick in. Rest means rest."

"Maybe I don't know the proper definition of rest, Hot Stuff," she purred. "Maybe you'll just have to show me."

"Penelope."

"I've been asleep in the car all day," she reminded him. "You want me to sleep all night? You've got to wear me out."

"Or I can give you more pain pills," he reminded her sarcastically.

"I like my option better," she replied cheerfully. "Not sleeping with you means I'm not sleeping and then the meds make me nauseated – so get your hot ass over here and make me happy."

"You're supposed to be resting."

"I won't do anything too energetic," she teased, winking at him. "Plain old vanilla missionary will be perfectly all right this time."

"Dear god, woman, you're going to be the death of me," Derek sighed.

She grinned at him. "Hey, at least we don't have to worry about me getting knocked up all the time now, right?" She paused a moment, then sighed, her smile disappearing completely. "Yeah, that was low, even for me. I want to have another baby with you, but it's not going to happen, so I'm going to make jokes about it – maybe too soon."

He took the three steps to the bed and leaned over to kiss her. "We've got three great kids," he exhaled against her lips. "And we love each other very much. That's all that matters, Baby Girl."

Penelope smiled sadly. "I certainly hope so, because one of these days, you're going to get old and chubby and I'm going to get grey hairs and my breasts are going to be hanging down around my waist and you're going to go find some cute young thing to replace me."

"No way," he denied.

"Every time we go out, you get at least ten numbers," she said, "even with your wedding band on."

"And every time we go out, we go home and have fantastic sex because you're jealous," he teased, kissing her again. "I wouldn't exchange you for anyone –"

"You went back to Emily," she whispered, "when we broke off before."

"I made a mistake. And I sure as fuck know it."

"Derek –"

"I lied to myself and tried to convince myself that it had just been sex," he said softly. "That you and I just didn't… mesh. But it was all a lie. I couldn't have moved on if I tried." He kissed her again, this time on the forehead. "It was all wrong."

"I never thought I'd find you and then fuck it all up," she admitted. "The day I found out I was pregnant, I wanted the earth to split open and swallow me: I never did get around to telling you properly. You just kind of walked in and accused Dad of all kinds of ridiculous things –"

"Jealousy does strange things to a man," he admitted. "All I could see was your legs around him and I flipped the fuck out."

She laughed. "Oh, honey, there's only one hot profiler for me – and he's right here in bed with me, struggling to stay awake."

"I'm going to get my second wind soon," he teased.

"Promises, promises," she murmured. "Get out of those clothes and close your eyes. I won't take advantage of you till you wake up – then I'll want dinner."

Derek rolled over onto his side and mumbled, "Steak & Shake is 24 hours and next door."

"Well, then, I'll just grab my purse and stroll on over and get us some dinner," she replied.

"Not like that you sure as hell aren't," he growled.

She chuckled and kissed him. "Silly boy – I'll put my shoes on first."

"My wife is not running around in her underwear –"

Penelope laughed and rolled her eyes. "You aren't as flirty since we got married."

"I don't need to flirt – I already got the girl."

"How wrong you are, Hot Stuff: you have to keep your girl," she reminded him with a smug smile. "I might just go have a hankering for Reid."

"Don't even joke about that," he all but snarled. "He can't give you what I can give you –"

"Possessive grunting and groping before sleepytime?" she teased.

"Do not even, woman," Derek muttered. "I'm too tired to fight back."

"That's the point, Hot Stuff."

He rolled over and grunted, "You don't play fair."

"I don't have to play fair – I already got the boy, flaws and all," she said, using his own logic against him.

He frowned at her. "Don't sit there, looking all cute and coy – I might have to take advantage of you not having kids hanging off you…"

"Mmm, please do," she all but purred. "I miss sexy time with my chocolate god."

He growled and said, "Resting, Penelope. You're supposed to be resting."

"It's just a head wound," she joked, reaching out and touching his lips with her fingers. "I'm fine, Derek – really. And if I feel bad, I stop and take pain pills." She smiled. "Besides, when's the next time we won't have the kids?"

"Tomorrow night," he replied, deadpan.

She chuckled. "You know what I meant, smartass. I miss us being us – and part of us is having fantastically inappropriate sex and being sexy and flirty over the phone and just… being us."

"You almost got yourself killed AGAIN," he pointed out. "So forgive me for wanting to wrap you up in bubble wrap and not let you out for anything."

"I'm not going to become BubbleBoy just to stay safe," she sighed in frustration. She wanted to get down and dirty, not have this stupid conversation. "I also am not going to take any more unnecessary risks because I'm tired of always having to look over my shoulder and pretend that I can outrun my demons. I'm ready to settle down. I made the choice to leave the CIA because I've served my time and I've gone above and beyond for them for so long that it was like breathing. It was instinct. And I can't turn off those instincts anymore than you could turn off the instinct to call Emily when we have a fight. It's okay. I'm not saying that I'm going to be a stay at home mom with a minivan and soccer games and whatever – but I am saying that I want to just sit around my lair with my babies and a good connection to the internet. That's where I should be now. And with my family – and if I'm out risking everything, how am I going to come home to you and the kids?" she reasoned.

She waited for a response, but the only noise he made was a sudden, deep snore.

Well, shit – he really was tired if he just drifted off like that. And the snoring wasn't normal, either – maybe he was allergic to cross-country road trips.

Penelope sighed and rolled her eyes before she reached over him to the bedside table to get the remote control for the tv. If she couldn't join him in sleep, she might as well keep herself entertained, right? Two hours later, she was wondering if she'd forgotten what real tv was like – she wanted her Doctor Who DVDs and her Netflix before Jersey Shore broke her brain more completely than it already had.

So when Derek sneakily draped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, she was definitely glad of the distraction. "You wanna go get some dinner?" he asked, voice still husky from sleep. He looked at the tv for a minute, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Baby Girl, the fuck are you watching?"

"I think it's some show about a midget troll who gets drunk and fucks inanimate objects," Penelope replied, "but I'm not sure, to be honest. I want my DVDs."

"You'll have 'em in a couple of days," he assured her with a chuckle. "Supper?"

"Not yet," she murmured, snuggling closer, tangling her legs with his. "I'd much rather cuddle with my husband for a while."

"Oh," he said, sounding disappointed.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I was kind of hoping for X-rated cuddling."

"THANK GOD," she exhaled in a rush. "Because I was just about to jump you in your sleep."

Derek laughed. "And you thought I'd complain?"

"You were so tired you fell asleep in the middle of me pouring out my commitment to grow the fuck up and settle down," she replied. "Yeah, I thought you'd complain."

"Well, I feel much more human now, so – feel free to help yourself to my chocolatey goodness, Goddess."

She smiled and said, "I can't believe you'd say that –"

"You said you missed the flirting," he reminded her with a grin. "So let's turn it up a notch."

"Mmmmkay," she agreed on a little purr in the back of her throat. "My chocolate god of thunder, it's about time for you to rock your Goddess's world – so let's get to it, then."

Kissing him was as natural as breathing. It was comfortable and safe, but titillating and overwhelming at the same time – every kiss was a new adventure. And right now, they were concentrating on building up that titillation and desire to a fever pitch. His left hand tangled with her right hand, mimicking their tongues and legs in a possessively primal way. She was his and vice versa, and neither would willingly give that up.

For once, they took it slowly – and Penelope didn't rush the tempo or fight to be dominant and get her way. She was content to let him do as he would, and he took his time. His touches ran the gamut from feather-light to heavily intense, playing her like a taut bowstring, shredding her defenses with alarming accuracy and intensity. By the time his fingers slipped between her thighs, she was quivering with pent-up desire, and the brush of his fingertips over her clit made her gasp and come. She was used to fast and dirty – for slow and soul-searching, she didn't know that only kissing and touching could be so damn good and arousing.

The way he knew her body made her blissfully happy – he worked her over and touched her in ways she didn't know she'd like to be touched. Or in ways that she only touched herself. He found the one spot just to one side of her clit that made her knees weak and played till she came apart and lost control completely, begging for mercy. And all the while, he looked up at her with those big, devilish eyes of his, keeping eye contact, telling her that he was enjoying every moment of her pleasure as if it were his own.

Between orgasms, a dull, deliciously painful ache settled into her pelvis. She needed him, needed to feel him inside her, wanted to be filled in a way that she'd never experienced before. She wasn't sure she liked slow and steady, but she loved the way he made her feel needed and needy – it was an entirely new level of trust and intimacy that they were wandering into, and she was letting her defenses down completely just for him. She couldn't control it anymore than she would be able to stop breathing.

"Tell me what you want, baby," Derek instructed softly, peering up at her.

"You," she exhaled in a tone that could have been weak if it had been anyone but her – instead, it was more overwhelmed than anything else and she knew he'd understand it.

He just smiled and planted a kiss on her thigh, sucking until she was moaning and knew there would be a hickey there to remind her all day tomorrow how much their lust was mutual as they drove home. Then he was kissing his way up her body, ushering in a path of destruction and delight all the way up to her lips. She felt badly for just taking instead of giving, until she saw just how intensely aroused he was, just from watching her receive his attentions. That made it okay; he was just as turned on, humming with desire, as she was… maybe even moreso.

All the air left her lungs in a long, drawn out breath as he slid into her, taking his damn sweet time, gauging her eyes rolling back into her head as the moment to sink all the way in. She let out a tiny squeak of bliss when he lifted her legs, changing the angle, and then he was encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips. He started a slow roll, pulling out, then changing the angle before sliding back to home. She felt beautiful heat beginning to slide down her spine, leaving icy cold chills in its wake as the flames settled where they were joined. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she felt nothing but the need to have more. MORE. She dragged him down for kisses that raised the bar; all she wanted was deep, hard thrusts and heated kisses that didn't hurt her heart.

He kept the tempo low and slow, building up their burning heat until they were both fully-ablaze, coming apart in each others' arms. Her ankles locked behind his back, holding him still and deep as she screamed with the force of her climax – and she knew his was the only name she would ever scream like that. He was the only one that ever mattered.

He was over the edge with her, and all they could do was come back to earth together.

They were sweaty, properly exhausted – emotionally and physically – and she'd never been happier. He kissed away the tears and sweat from her cheeks and smiled down at her. "That's how good slow and steady is," Derek commented softly. "So we don't always have to be in a rush, Baby Girl." He tucked a stray lock of damp hair behind her ear and adjusted her glasses – which were hopelessly askew. "Dear god, woman, do you know how sexy you look right now? I never want to get out of bed when you're like this."

She bit back a laugh and instead murmured, "I'm not sexy, tiger. You're the sexy one – I wanna have those arms around me all the time and those hands in all the places that no one else is allowed to go, and that cock – dear merciful GOD – that thing needs to be registered as a lethal weapon."

He smirked and kissed her. "Your breasts are perfect," he whispered. "And your hips and thighs are all mine – and don't get me started on the naughty bits. Those are my favorite."

She smiled and kissed him back. "I love you, silly boy," she whispered.

"I love you more, silly girl – but now I'm hungry and you need to take your pain pills and we can't have you taking those on an empty stomach," he reminded her.

"Party pooper," she muttered.

"Realist," he corrected, kissing the tip of her nose. Her eyes crossed and she lost focus of him in her glasses. She adored the sweet, affectionate gestures he made after they made love. It made her happy to know he was happy.

And she loved him best of all.


	32. Chapter 32

I still, somehow, don't own anything to do with Criminal Minds.

* * *

><p>Part thirty-two:<p>

* * *

><p>July 15, 2012<br>11:30 PM EDT

When they finally got home, the lights were on in their little abode behind Rossi's mansion. "God, I hope the kids aren't awake," Penelope said, grabbing her go-bag and slinging it onto her shoulder. Derek handled his bag and her tech bags like a pro – she'd taught him well.

"If they are, we only have to blame your dad," he replied. "He spoils them rotten."

"So do you," she reminded him with a smile.

"Yeah, well –"

She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Have I mentioned how grateful I am that you're their dad?" she inquired with a chuckle. "I can't imagine running after those three monsters by myself. They're not even that bad, as far as kids go – they're relatively well-behaved. But they certainly have their moments."

"Declan's meltdown about the sloppy joes three weeks ago?" Derek reminded her.

"Emma's tantrum about not being able to wear a sports bra as a shirt to the playground," she reminded him. "My baby's growing up, D – it's going to get crazy soon. Puberty is going to strike at any moment and we're going to have a thousand more tantrums a day. For years. Dear god."

He smiled and gestured for her to unlock the door. "We'll face that when it comes," he promised. "Meanwhile, we have to worry about other things. Like getting to bed and getting some sleep in our own damn bed before getting up and going to work in the morning."

"Ugh," she muttered, unlocking the door and opening it for him. Once they were both inside, they were met by an unusually cheerful Spencer Reid in the hallway.

"Hi!" Reid exclaimed. "I was wondering when you two would get home –"

"Where are Dad and Emily?" Penelope asked. "And why did they leave you alone with the kids?"

"Oh, they went up to Rossi's about dinnertime," Reid said dismissively. "I'm capable of watching your kids – Emma and Declan went to bed on time and Brielle had a bit of a tummyache, so she took longer to go down, but all in all, it wasn't so very difficult."

"Kid, you've got to be shitting me," Derek muttered, brushing past Reid and heading for the stairs. "There's no way you put those kids down by yourself."

"Here, let me take that," Reid said, plucking the go-bag off of Penelope's shoulder. "Did you guys have a good drive?"

"It was fine," Penelope said dismissively, waiting for Derek to come back to the top of the steps. When he did, all she did was raise an eyebrow. He shrugged in reply, looking confused – which was the cue for "all kids tucked up in bed, accounted for, and sound asleep". "So, why did Dad and Emily desert you?" she asked casually.

"Probably for the same reason you and Morgan took an extra day," Reid replied cheerfully. "To get away from the kids and have adult time."

Penelope nodded. "Gotcha," she said, holding up a hand. "Please say no more."

"There was some making out in front of the kids –"

"I said say no more," Penelope repeated a little louder.

"- which is why they went to the other house."

"Reid, I think it's time for you to go home now," Derek said. "We'll see you in the morning."

"Right," Reid said cheerfully. "I'll make sure the coffee pot is set to 'standing spoon' and that the new agents know not to change it."

"New agents?" Penelope said, taking her bag back from Reid before he could leave with it. New people didn't bode well for the department.

"They're cleaning a few people out of the tech pool," Reid replied. "And other departments. I mean, we're obviously safe – for now. But Strauss keeps looking at time worked vs. unworked time and –"

"If she comes anywhere near breathing down my door, that woman is going to get a rude awakening as to just how fast I can ruin her life digitally," Penelope warned. "She won't know what hit her."

"And most of Pen's recovery time has been unpaid," Derek added. "Thank god for Rossi – or we'd all be screwed."

"I'm tired and want to go to bed now," Penelope said pointedly.

"Right – leaving now," Reid said. "Want me to activate the alarm on my way out?"

"Nope, I'll get it," Derek replied. "C'mon, Goddess, let's get you in bed and cozied up with your favorite pillow and the DVDs going."

Penelope sighed and rolled her eyes. "Good night, Boy Wonder – see you in the morning," she acknowledged with a tired wave as she made her way up the stairs to meet her husband. "I want to see the kids before bed," she commented softly. "Why don't you go set the alarm and I'll meet you in bed?"

"You've got ten minutes," Derek warned. "No more."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Yeah, yeah, and you and what army are going to enforce that, Hot Stuff?"

"The army of I'll call Hotch and tell him the real reason you're calling in tomorrow," Derek said with a self-righteous smirk.

"Damn; busted," Penelope sighed. "Okay, ten minutes – I just want to give everyone kisses and tuck them in."

"Reid already tucked them in," he reminded her.

"Reid isn't their mother, stupid," she protested with an offended huff. "Go set the alarm."

"Okay, okay," Derek sighed, heading back downstairs.

She took the chance to duck into Emma's room. The kid had managed to turn herself around in bed so her head was hanging off the foot of the bed and she was about to fall off. Penelope sighed and rolled her eyes before gently working her snoring daughter back up onto the pillows where she belonged. She had no doubt that one of these days, Emma would break her neck falling out of bed – but tonight was not that night.

Declan wasn't even in his bed – he was curled up in his beanbag, sawing logs. It hurt a little bit to move him back to bed, but she did it without complaint. Because she knew if she didn't, he would be cranky in the morning from sleeping on the bean bag chair.

Brielle was the only one where she was supposed to be – on her belly in the crib, one chubby little arm wrapped around Mr. Bear and one thumb smack dab in her mouth. And, of the three, she was the one that Penelope actually wanted to wake up. Irony, thy art a screaming baby. She leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against the baby's cheek, and whispered, "I missed you," before retreating back into the hallway.

"Seven minutes and fifty-two seconds," Derek said when she got into their bedroom. "I'm impressed – and I put on _Pyramids of Mars_ for you to fall asleep to."

"Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?" she asked, reaching for him. He pulled away and smiled. "Hey, what, now I can't even have a kiss?"

"We need to sleep," he reminded her. "Go get your nightgown on."

"Ugh – I don't like you being bossy," she muttered. "I'll tell my Daddy on you for being mean to me, Derek Morgan. You're a big mean poopie head."

"Hey, watch that vicious mouth of yours, gorgeous," he teased, kissing away her pout. "Now that you've had a kiss, go get your nightgown on so we can go to bed."

"You're not even down to your boxers," she protested with a scowl. "Why should I wander off to get changed by myself when I could be watching my Hot Stuff get down to his undies?"

"Did I say you had to change in the other room?" he sighed. "And did you not stop and think that maybe I like watching you get changed, too?"

She grinned at him, her attitude suddenly turning an about-face. "So what you're saying is that you want a show before bed –"

"Penelope. Sleep. We need sleep."

She reached out and poked his chest. "Stop trying to be the voice of reason," she insisted. "It doesn't suit Your Royal Sexiness."

"How am I supposed to keep being reasonable when you look at me like that?" he asked with a silly smile. "Stop it –"

She chuckled and began to unbutton her blouse. "Silly boy – Mama's got your best interests at heart, Baby."

"Whatever," he said, though his eyes were drinking her in eagerly. "You're just in a mood –"

She grinned at him, winking a little. "You like this mood, Hot!Pants." She wiggled a little bit, making her breasts jiggle in her bra. "Don't you?"

He swallowed hard, then said, "Okay, well – maybe we don't have to go to bed right away…"

She shimmied out of the blouse and unhooked her bra. "Uh-huh…" She let the bra fall to the floor and covered her ample bosom with her arms, smirking at the way his eyes lit up. "God, you're so predictable – a little bit of boob, a little bit of leg, and you're putty in my hands."

"Now you're complaining?" Derek challenged, yanking his shirt off and racing to unbuckle his belt. "You gonna stand there in that skirt, Baby Girl, or you gonna take it all off?"

She rolled her eyes and kept one arm over her chest while she shimmied out of the skirt – watching his mood change as she wiggled her hips and wriggled out of the polka-dotted skirt. It still surprised her how he didn't bother to hide how much he wanted her – most men would've at least tried to keep up a semblance of propriety in public. Not so much with Derek Morgan. He was hands-on all the time and liked to make sure that no one messed with his girl – the blatantly possessive, lust-filled looks he gave her made no bones about who she belonged to. Not that she belonged to anyone, but he was the closest to possessor that she would claim.

"Why on earth are you covering up, gorgeous?" Derek asked, a predatorily hungry wolf smile on his lips. "You're anything but innocent and modest, my sweet, sweet sex kitten."

She blushed, feeling the flush creep up her body even as she shivered from the intensity in his eyes. On the road, he'd been tired and she'd had to make the moves – but now that they were home, he was in his element. He knew just how to make her weak in the knees with want. And home was safe – for them both.

She uncrossed her arms and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. "Maybe modesty isn't my strong suit," she murmured. "But I can try harder if you want –"

He gently covered her hands with his own, lowering himself to his knees. He kissed his way down her belly as he lowered her panties down her legs. She whimpered and gripped his shoulders as his kisses trailed down her thigh, then inward. "On second thought, I like being a little slutty," she exhaled weakly.

"I like you just the way you are," he hummed against her skin. She moaned and gave herself up to his gently firm ministrations. Oh dear lord, she managed to score a man who knew his way around a woman – which had to be one in a million odds. Dear, sweet lord, he was good with his lips and tongue. And all of his other bits and bobs.

He held her steady as he brought her over the edge with very little effort. "You're a naughty girl," he growled, nipping at her thigh. "You never intended to go to bed, did you?"

"Mmm, not so much," she breathed.

"Well, don't let me disappoint you, then," he teased, kissing his way back up her body. He nuzzled her belly, then her breasts, planting tender kisses as he went. And then he was all but attacking her head-on, devouring her lips and tongue like a starving man. She didn't protest or back off when he propelled her right on over to the bed – and yanked her down roughly with him. She landed on top of him, straddling his thighs, her nails scratching at his chest as she fought to get a grip.

It didn't take much persuasion or time before she was sliding down his cock like a stripper pole. She let out a long, drawn-out sigh as he filled her, made her feel whole again. It was always good – so good. He was long and thick, perfectly proportioned for what she needed. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she began to move. His hands fell to her hips, clenching and holding on for dear life as she rode him. She felt wild and free as she bucked and ground against him, giggling between breathless kisses and his whispered pleas that she never stop. "Fuck, yeah, Baby Girl – fuck yeah… ride me like a fucking cowgirl, baby," he hissed through clenched teeth, and she knew he was struggling to hold onto control.

It made her feel powerful, knowing that she could do that to him. Knowing that she held such power over him – that she was all he wanted.

And when it was over and they held each other, sweaty and spent, she murmured, "Who knew you had such a fetish for cowgirls? Maybe I should get you a pair of chaps."

"No way, Mama," he grumbled.

"Mmm, you sure about that, my vision? I think we'd have a lot of fun playing cowboys and Indians," she teased. "Besides, I have Photoshop – for all my dirty cowboy fantasies."

"I better not ever find pictures of me in chaps floating around the internet," he growled.

"Oh, believe me, my love – you'll never find them," she teased.

"Are you snarking me while I'm still inside you?" he muttered.

She laughed and kissed him. She definitely didn't resist when he deepened the kiss and rolled them over till he was on top. "You teasin' me, Baby Girl?" he asked.

"Always," she replied, smiling innocently up at him.

Life was good – and she was loving every minute of having him. She never wanted it to end.

* * *

><p>July 16, 2012<br>5:37 AM EDT

The baby monitor flared to life with the sounds of Brielle giggling. Penelope groaned and snuggled closer to Derek. They'd stayed up till about two making love and watching Doctor Who – which didn't bode well for the early morning baby wake-up call.

She was about to go back to sleep when the giggling suddenly turned fussy. She sighed and got up to go check on the baby. Brielle was about to launch into full-on screaming when her mother finally picked her up and held her close. "Hey, you," Penelope murmured, "let's change your diaper and go get some breakfast. Yup – let's go get you ready for the day, sweetness." She stifled a yawn but went to work. Soon, the baby had a clean, dry diaper, and a drooly smile on her lips. "There's my happy girl," Penelope cooed with a smile.

She carried Brielle downstairs and prepped a bottle of formula. "You're getting so big," Penelope murmured proudly as her daughter scarfed down the bottle. "I'm so proud of you – you're such a good girl. I missed you, you know – I love my little girl," she said softly, kissing the baby's little button nose. "And Mama's not going away again any time soon. I promise."

Brielle fell asleep again not long after she finished eating, and Penelope did the same. She didn't wake up till she felt two other bodies climbing onto the sofa with her. "Shh, you're gonna wake them up," Declan whispered. "Mom looks tired."

"Mom's always tired," Emma whined softly.

"Hey, guys, breakfast," Derek called from the kitchen. "Leave your mom alone – she needs to get ready for work."

"I'm up, I'm up," Penelope assured him, though she didn't open her eyes. "What's for breakfast?"

"We've got toaster strudel thingies," Emma said cheerfully. "Mom, can we go shopping? My shoes pinch."

"Dear, sweet zombie Jesus," Penelope sighed. "Why didn't you ask Grandpa to get you new shoes?"

"They didn't pinch till this morning," Emma whined.

"I need new pants," Declan said quietly. "I busted out the knee skateboarding."

Penelope sighed. "Okay, we'll go shopping tonight – and pick up pizza on the way home."

"YAY!" Emma shouted.

Brielle woke up and would've started crying, but she saw her mommy and snuggled up instead. "You two go get ready to go to Will's – and get breakfast."

"Yes, Mom," Declan replied, hurrying off toward the kitchen.

"Can I get new boots?" Emma asked.

"No," Penelope sighed. "Not till we go school shopping."

"When are we doing that?" Emma demanded.

"What is this – the Spanish Inquisition?" Penelope challenged. "Go get breakfast and put on clothes. You can't go to Will's in your pajamas."

"I can wear whatever I want," Emma said forcefully. "I'm ten now – that makes me almost an adult."

Penelope snorted back a laugh. "Not even, little girl – go put on real clothes. Do not play games with me."

"What's going on in here, then?" Derek asked as he came into the living room with a glass of orange juice.

"Mom says I have to go change clothes, but I'm comfy in my pjs," Emma whined petulantly.

"Well, kiddo, your mom's right – go to it," Derek said in a firm tone that booked no argument. "And Pen, gimme that baby. You smell like you need a shower, Mama."

Emma giggled. "Mom said I can get new boots," she said.

"No, I did not," Penelope sighed. "Go put clothes on or I'm not taking anyone shopping tonight."

"NO FAIR!" Emma exploded, stomping out of the room and up the stairs.

"And so it begins," Penelope sighed, looking up at Derek. "You gonna take Breezy?"

"Absolutely – c'mere, Peanut," Derek said with a smile, plucking Brielle out of her mother's arms. The baby immediately snuggled up to him and started cooing and burbling happily. "Go get ready, sweetheart – I've got this," he assured her with a small smile.

"You sure?" she asked.

"Go take a shower and put on one of those sexy dresses of yours," he teased, winking. "I wanna have visions of sexiness dancing in my head all day."

She ran upstairs and took a quick shower, then got her game face on – and a simple pink dress with abstract yellow flowers on it was the modus operandi for the day. When she was done getting ready, she got Brielle's diaper bag packed for the day. By the time she headed downstairs, Derek had the baby in her high chair with a handful of Cheerios. Brielle was pushing them around with her drooly fingers and giggling. Declan and Emma were finishing up breakfast, and Derek was fixing a cup of coffee just the way she liked it – and there was already a bowl of fresh fruit set out on the counter for her.

She accepted the cup of coffee and offered him a tenderly hungry kiss. "Thanks, D," she murmured. "You gonna go on ahead? I'll take the kids by Will and JJ's and meet you in the bullpen like usual –"

"Yeah, I've got a class first thing," Derek said. "You okay to wrangle the kids?"

"I certainly hope so," Penelope said, "or I'm a failure as a mother."

"Mom, I just want tennis shoes," Emma said quietly. "I can get boots later."

"We'll talk about it later," Penelope warned with a sigh. "You two have everything you need for today? Books, DVDs, and whatever?"

"Yeah," Declan and Emma chorused.

"Okay – go get your bags and meet me by the front door in five minutes," Penelope instructed. "And decide what you want to listen to in the car."

"Green Day!" Emma cried.

"Lady Gaga!" Declan exclaimed.

"Good luck," Derek said, chuckling and pressing a kiss to Penelope's lips. "See you later, Goddess."

* * *

><p>July 16, 2012<br>9:02 AM EDT

Penelope paused for a moment at Emily's desk, saying, "You wanna come shopping with us tonight? Too many kids, too many clothing mishaps."

"I have plans," Emily said, a guilty flush creeping over her cheeks.

Penelope smiled. "Look, I'm not mad that you're banging my dad – you deserve to be happy, and so does he. So, this weekend, you and I will go out and do a little bit of girl time."

"Sounds fabulous," Emily replied with a smile.

Penelope passed through the bullpen, looking for Derek – not finding him, she headed for her office. She was almost there when she heard several gunshots – and alarms as the building went suddenly on lockdown.

Emily ran up and shoved her into her office and said, "Do not open the door. For anyone or anything. You hear me? Tap the security cameras and get on the walkie." She pulled out her gun and continued, "Don't you fucking dare play hero, Baby Girl – you hear me?"

"Yeah," Penelope agreed, closing the door and locking it.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she tapped into the security network and switched on her emergency radio. "I'm in," Penelope said.

"I need tabs on the team," Emily said.

"JJ and Reid are on their way to the main security office," Penelope said. "I'm not sure where anyone else is –"

"Well, find them," Emily hissed. "I'm crossing the bullpen –"

"I can see that," Penelope said. She changed cameras and yelped, "Em – GET DOWN!"

She was too late.


	33. Chapter 33

About now, you should be really, REALLY glad that I don't have anything to do with Criminal Minds.

* * *

><p>Part thirty-three:<p>

* * *

><p>July 16, 2012<br>9:16 AM EDT

Emily's voice crackled down the walkie. "Do NOT leave that room, Baby Girl," she grunted. "I'm fine."

"You've been shot –"

"I've been shot before," Emily reminded her. Penelope lost sight of her on the cameras, and she assumed she was dragging herself to a safer position. "It's really not that bad."

"Don't lie to me," Penelope choked out. "Where are you hurt?"

"Stomach – but I'm okay – I'm not bleeding that much and there's an exit wound," Emily assured her. "Have you found the others yet?"

Penelope looked at one of the other monitors. "JJ and Reid in the main security room – with a bunch of other people. We just have to keep the gunman – whoever he or she is – away from there."

"What about Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi?"

"Cameras are down in Strauss's office," Penelope said. "But I know I can bypass the main system and get into the audio feed – it's just going to take time."

"We don't have time," Emily reminded her bitterly.

As if to punctuate the statement, three more shots in rapid succession filled the open channel on the walkie. "Oh my god, oh my god," Penelope repeated over and over again, working as fast as she could to isolate anything that would help her.

"Penelope, stop and take a deep breath," JJ said down the line. "Just breathe – Emily, we can't see you on the cameras anymore –"

"I'm under Reid's desk," Emily muttered. "I'm trying to find something to stop the bleeding."

"You said there wasn't much blood," Penelope gasped, all concentration gone in a split second. This was how it was before – with Doyle. "Emily –"

"GET THOSE CAMERAS UP AND STAY PUT," Emily rumbled down the line.

"I can't leave you out there –"

"Penelope," Reid said, "the gunman is going to see anyone coming into the bullpen as a foe – and he will start shooting again."

"I am not going to lose my best friend again," Penelope exhaled, the words sounding painfully feeble as they left her lips. "Or anyone else." She tried to focus and found that not only could she not concentrate, she could use that to her advantage in tapping the security system. Whoever had programmed the block clearly hadn't estimated on a distracted hacker who knew the system better than they did. "You can run, you fucking piece of shit, but you can't hide from me – YES!"

"We have visual," JJ exclaimed. "And audio – Pen, stay where you are."

"They're in there," Penelope whispered, her breathing becoming labored. "Hotch and Dad and – and –"

"I know, honey," JJ assured her, "but you have to stay put. Kevin Lynch isn't good with a gun, but we know he's good enough to kill Strauss and hurt the other three – and Emily."

"He was aiming for my head," Emily joked wryly. "Oh, fuck – I've got to get out of here. Before I can't." The joking tone was gone in a second. "Don't even fucking leave your office, Penelope."

"Garcia," Reid said, "don't even think about –"

"PEN – STAY WHERE YOU ARE –"

Penelope was already on her feet and out the door. She still only had special dispensation to carry, but that didn't keep her from grabbing her sidearm or knife before she kicked off her heels and crawled into the bullpen. She knew if Lynch was monitoring, he would see that she'd already bypassed his rudimentary effort to take that office off the grid and he would be watching for someone. All of her training kicked in and she slid through the railings on the stairs, barely touching them as she dropped down out of sight. She waited thirty seconds, then slithered across the floor one desk at a time till she got to Reid's.

The amount of blood was staggering – enough to make Penelope gag.

"I'm okay," Emily tried to assure her, but the words were weak and hollow. "It's not that bad –"

"Hold still," Penelope insisted, pulling off her jacket and wadding it up. "Keep pressure on it. I'm not losing you to Kevin fucking Lynch and his good idea to go shooting up the fucking BAU. We made it though Ian Doyle, didn't we? Why would you let Lynch have the satisfaction of kicking your ass?"

Emily smiled weakly. "You're full of bravery and stupidity – where's your walkie?"

"My office," Penelope sighed.

"Reid's is still in his desk," Emily gestured. "Bottom drawer, back right corner. Get it on."

Penelope shook her head. "No."

"Don't argue with me –"

"I'm going to end this," Penelope said in as firm a tone as she could manage. "You know as well as I do that everything changed when I came into the picture – why else would a tech snap? Because he's being replaced by someone better."

"I've been profiling him since he shot me," Emily mumbled. "He's not going to be easily distracted – even by you. And –"

"He killed Strauss and shot my father, my boss, and my husband," Penelope said, her voice going suddenly cold as ice. "And my best friend in the fucking world – and he is not getting away with any of it. This is my fault."

"No way, PG," Emily said, reaching over to grab Penelope's hand. "Don't even. Not your fault."

"If you die – if Dad or Hotch or – or – what am I going to do without you?" Penelope asked, squeezing Emily's hand. "I made the situation worse. And now I have to fix it."

Emily swallowed hard. "Don't worry about me, then – just do it. Do what you have to do."

"If you die, I'm going to kick your ass," Penelope swore.

Despite herself, Emily chuckled. "Don't do anything stupid," she whispered. "Because I can't protect you this time."

Penelope smiled, but the smile wavered and tears crept into her eyes. "Did I ever tell you thank you? For everything you did when we were partners?"

"It was implied every day we walked away from a mission," Emily groaned, closing her eyes. "Go. Do what you have to do, Baby Girl – I'm not going anywhere."

Penelope kissed Emily's forehead. "You better not," she warned. With a deep breath, she slipped her knife into the waistband of her dress and rose to her feet, brandishing her gun, aiming directly at the window of Strauss's office. There was no doubt in her mind that if this went south, they would all die – not just Emily, not just Strauss. Everyone would be fair game. It was the biggest gamble of her life, and she intended to sweep the table.

She would not let this break her.

The door was unlocked and Penelope opened it, quelling her terror at what she might find behind it. It would do her no good to give in to the fear. "Get in here and put your weapons on the desk," Lynch ordered. "You stupid bitch – they think you're so fucking goddamn useful, but you're nothing but a stupid whore. You just walked right in here, didn't you?"

Penelope laid her gun and knife on the desk and raised her hands in submission. "I did," she acknowledged. "But I don't think it was stupid."

He pointed the gun right at her and laughed. "Right – because you like playing heroine, don't you? You think I don't know what you did at the CIA, Garcia? You're no better than your fucking husband – kicking down doors, shooting people."

Penelope refrained from seeking eye contact with any of the wounded men, instead choosing to focus on Lynch. "I did what I had to do, Kevin," she said softly. "And maybe it wasn't what I should have done – but I'm not the one shooting up the BAU, am I?" She made a very submissive gesture with her hands, showing him that he had nothing to fear from her. "Why are you doing this?"

"You don't have a clue, sweetheart," Lynch snarled, waving the gun wildly in her face. "How would you feel if you walked into work one day and got told to pack your stuff because you're no longer needed? That some stupid twit that thinks she's so much better than you can just take over for you?"

"I've been there," Penelope murmured. "It doesn't feel good."

He took aim and fired – the bullet whizzed just barely past her neck and shoulder, hitting one of the glass panel windows behind her. "It's you, stupid – you're the reason this is happening. You didn't go out with me, you sure as FUCK aren't better than me –"

"Shoot at my wife again and you're a dead man, Lynch," Derek growled from the corner. Her resolve to not look at him faltered and her stomach fluttered with the beginning of dry heaves when she saw why he was on the floor.

"Right, Morgan – like you have the ability to do anything about it," Lynch taunted.

Penelope tried immediately to redirect Lynch's attention. "Kevin, leave him alone," she said softly, soothingly. "You have what you want – you have me now. So tell me what you want me to do. Do you want to hurt me? Do you want me to –"

"Shut up," Lynch snapped, slapping her cheek hard enough that her head whipped around. "Just shut the fuck up."

Her hand went to her cheek, trying to assess the damage, while he continued to rant and rave. "You know what I want, Penelope? Huh? I want the happy ending – I want the job, I want the girl, I want everything that means I've made it in life. But, nooooo, the girl stole my job and then went straight to the arms of some fuck-headed asshole that doesn't deserve her brains or her heart – do you know how many women Morgan here has fucked just in the time I've been in this department? Before Prentiss, it was a new bitch every night. How the fuck do you live with that? How do you live with a walking petrie dish, Penelope?"

She licked her lips and exhaled. "You're right, Kevin – he doesn't deserve me," she murmured in agreement, trying to placate the man waving a gun around. It was obvious that Hotch was in no shape to negotiate – he was clutching his shoulder and trying to keep the blood flow under control. And Rossi? He was nursing a similar wound to Emily – and had to save his strength. Despite that Morgan's only wound was in the knee, it was his bad knee to begin with. She was the only one of sound mind and body, and it was all she'd be able to do to keep it that way. "He's not like you, is he? Morgan isn't stable and steady – he puts himself in a lot of danger. My kids don't deserve that, either –"

"I'd be a good father," Lynch mused for a second, his features softening – but then they hardened again and he pointed the gun at Morgan. "Say the word, Penelope – say you'll do anything for me and I won't blow his fucking head off. We'll run away, take the kids, go off somewhere nice and quiet and sunny and live on the beach –"

"Yes," she whispered. "Anything you want, Kevin – just let them go. Let them go."

"You didn't say it," Lynch growled, his voice lowering dangerously. "You didn't say you'd do anything for me."

She took a leap of panicked faith and grabbed Lynch's arm, gently redirecting the gun away from her husband. "I will do anything for you, Kevin Lynch," Penelope said in a low, even tone, trying to keep the tremor out of it. "I want you to let them leave. All of them. You've got what you wanted, don't you? You have me."

"Not so fast," Lynch said, grabbing her wrist and yanking her flush against him. "You have to prove it, Penelope. Prove that you mean it."

She sucked in a rough breath, then whispered, "Tell me what you want, Kevin."

"I want to take you in front of that lousy less than man that you married," Kevin growled. "I want him to know that you're not his –"

"She's no one's," Derek countered angrily.

Penelope grabbed Kevin before he could turn and do any damage. "Hey, don't listen to him," she murmured, moving in seductively and trying to hide her revulsion at being so close to Kevin Lynch – the man who made her skin crawl. "We should go somewhere more private for that –"

"No," Kevin all but snapped, forcing her to kiss him. She tried to pretend that she was enjoying it, but she wanted to throw up – in his mouth. His hand slid up under her dress, heedless of the blood on her from Emily, not caring about the damage he might do. She inhaled sharply, tensing, when his fingers hit spots that he shouldn't by rights have any access to. He clearly thought it was a sound of pleasure, not terror, because he kept going. Her body began to betray her, but she kept a tight lid on the noises that left her, the way her breath hitched and quickened. She fought like hell to stay under control, and it paid off.

He was just distracted enough by trying to please her –

In one motion, she grabbed her knife off the desk and plunged it into his chest. In the next second, she'd grabbed the gun from his hand and put a bullet between his eyes.

It wasn't until he was dead weight on the floor that she started shaking – her hands were shaking so hard that she dropped the gun. She slid to the floor in front of Strauss's desk and closed her eyes, trying to keep the urge to vomit or faint at bay. She couldn't look at her father or Hotch or – especially – Derek. She couldn't believe that she'd let Lynch go that far, but she had to distract him – and now she felt incredibly dirty, just as if she'd been violated in other ways.

By the time she felt JJ's arms around her, she was crying so hard that she couldn't breathe – she couldn't think, she didn't care. The adrenaline rush was suddenly gone, the blood was stinking in her nostrils, she felt horrible, dirty, terrified and there was nothing she could do but hold onto JJ and scream in misery.

"Hey, hey," JJ tried to soothe her. "Penelope, did he hurt you – did he do anything but –"

Penelope finally managed to open her eyes and stare at her friend through tear-filled vision. "No," she exhaled on a sob. "Oh god – JJ – "

"Honey, we're going to the hospital," JJ said firmly. "You need to get looked at."

"He didn't hurt me," Penelope whispered. "He didn't rape me – I let him touch me."

"I don't care," JJ said firmly. "You're still going to the hospital."

"Emily – is Emily –"

"She's alive," JJ said. "I don't know anything more than that – same with the others. Except Strauss: she's dead. We couldn't have saved her."

"Derek –"

JJ helped her to her feet. "Sweetie," she murmured, "he's going to be fine."

"Dad?"

JJ paused for a moment. It was a moment too long – Penelope felt panic grip her. "Hey, hey – he and Prentiss are going to be fine, too," she promised.

"DON'T LIE TO ME!"

JJ held up her hands. "Hey, calm down – we're going to the hospital because you're next of kin," she said softly. "And you need to get checked out – I don't know that that's not your blood."

"He didn't hurt me," Penelope repeated, her ire dying.

"Come on, honey," JJ said soothingly. "Let's go – it's okay now. It's all going to be okay."

It was almost two hours before they cleared her at the hospital – they'd looked her up one side, down the other, and even done a rape kit even though she'd assured them that she'd not actually been raped. She was grateful that JJ had slipped away and had fetched some clean clothes for her to change into. And she was even more grateful to be able to wash the blood off of her hands and glasses.

"Have there been any updates?" JJ asked as they settled into the waiting room with Reid.

"Hotch is fine – he's going to be released soon," Reid said. "But nothing else." He offered Penelope a hug, then said, "Are you okay?" She nodded numbly. "You sure?"

Before she could answer, a doctor came into the room. "Derek Morgan?"

"Yes," Penelope said, jumping to her feet. "Is he –"

"Mr. Morgan just came out of surgery," the doctor said with a small smile. "We had to replace his knee with a titanium joint – but he's going to be up and around in no time, I'm sure."

Penelope closed her eyes and exhaled weakly. "Can I see him?" she asked. "I need to see my husband."

"He's going to be groggy from the anesthetic for a while – I wouldn't advise it just yet. In a couple of hours, probably."

Hotch came into the waiting room, his face drawn, his arm in a sling. "Have you heard anything?" he asked.

"Morgan's gonna be okay," Reid said.

Hotch took one look at Penelope and crossed the room in a few steps. He pulled her into a hug with his good arm and said, "Thank you, Penelope. You didn't have to do any of that – you shouldn't have done it. But I'm thankful you did."

"It was my fault," she whispered. "This is all my fault – I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Hotch –"

He didn't say a word, just held her till she stopped crying again.

Another hour went by, and then came the news that Rossi was out of surgery and would make a full, albeit grumpy, recovery. Two more hours, and finally, someone came to update them on Emily.

"We lost her on the table four times," the doctor said. "But she's in stable – but critical – condition now. I anticipate that she'll make a full recovery, given time."

Penelope nodded, feeling fragile and unstable. "Can I see my husband, please?" she asked, her voice weak with exhaustion and worry. "Agent Derek Morgan – "

"Of course," the doctor said, leading her back into the maze of corridors. Eventually, she was brought into a private room, and the doctor said, "Mr. Morgan, your wife is here to see you."

Derek grunted in something akin to pain, then sighed. "Fine," he said curtly.

She hesitated, not able to read his tone. Penelope stepped up to the bed and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Hey," she whispered, feeling sick when he shied away from her touch. "Derek –"

"Don't," he muttered. "Go home."

"But –"

"You came to see how I am – I'm stuck in a fucking bed, Penelope. You need to go home and take care of the kids because I sure as hell can't."

She couldn't bite back the words that erupted from her lips. "You could at least thank me," she hissed. "He had every intent to kill everyone in that building – and I kept him from hurting you anymore than he'd done already."

"You didn't have to let him do that to you," Derek growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I don't want Kevin Lynch's seconds –"

Penelope barely restrained herself from slapping him. "He didn't fuck me," she said in a quiet, cold voice before she left the room.

She held her head high, her shoulders squared, till she was in the corridor – then she lost the battle to stay strong. She had condemned herself. Now she had to live with the consequences.


	34. Chapter 34

I still own nothing connected to Criminal Minds – which is fine. I've been away for a while, dealing with real life job stress – got promoted and have been working through all the associated training. On top of a bazillion other things happening, too. So, yeah!

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><p>Part thirty-four:<p>

* * *

><p>July 16, 2012<br>7:16 PM EDT

Penelope was having trouble balancing Brielle in one arm and her sandwich in the other hand. It was something she'd been able to do once upon a time when Emma was little, but she was older and less flexible now. She watched Emma and Declan tear apart their food and sighed softly. "Guys, could you at least chew before you swallow your food whole?" she asked.

"It's just eggs, Mama," Emma protested. "You aren't supposed to chew eggs, are you?"

"Where's Dad?" Declan asked. "Is he on another case?"

Penelope frowned and took a deep breath. "Dad's gonna take some time off – and Grandma's going to come visit for a while," she said softly.

"YES!" Declan said, pumping his fist in the air. "I love Grandma –"

"I know," Penelope replied, "but she's going to be here to take care of your Dad."

Emma picked something out of her food and wrinkled her nose. "Why does she have to take care of him? He's an adult, right? He can take care of himself."

"He had an accident," Penelope said. "And he's not going to be able to walk around for a while – so Fran's coming down from Chicago to baby-sit." She finally managed to get a bite of her sandwich, then winced when she bit her cheek. There were some things that the kids never needed to know – and her inner turmoil was one of those things. So she kept it tempered down and hidden away from them, denying herself the right to feel anything but tired happiness about being safe with her children. It had been that kind of a day – the kind where she hadn't been sure where her babies would have ended up had she and Derek both had been lost. So she needed to rejoice in the small things now.

"Oh," Declan said. After a pause, he asked, "Can we get dessert, Mom?"

"Sure," Penelope said, the smile not quite reaching her lips. "But nothing too sugary. Maybe just a slice of pie."

"I want French Silk pie, Mama," Emma said with a sigh. "I like real pie."

Penelope chuckled and said, "Okay, fine – you guys can get what you want tonight. But tomorrow, it's whatever Fran says. I've got some work to do to get things ready for your dad to come home. Like setting up the sofa bed."

"Why won't he sleep with you?" Emma asked, laying aside her silverware suddenly and staring at her mother with blank intensity. "You always sleep together."

Penelope wracked her mind for a plausible excuse so she wouldn't have to tell the kids that they were fighting – and might even split up in the end. "Because he hurt his knee and won't be able to walk up and down the stairs," she finally said. "And we have to make sure he's comfortable."

"Oh, okay," Emma said. "I thought you were like fighting or something. That's not cool. You scared me."

Penelope laughed mirthlessly. "No, it's just because he hurt himself pretty bad," she said. "Now, finish your dinner and let's get dessert."

"You haven't eaten much," Declan pointed out.

"It's hard to hold your sister and eat," Penelope said in a gentle tone. "Go ahead and finish up, kids – don't worry about me."

At the end of the meal, they finally just decided to get a peanut butter and chocolate pie – and it took all of Penelope's self-restraint not to have any. Because if she started eating it, there would be none left. The emotional stress eating was going to start again, unless she kept a really tight reign on herself. The very last thing she needed now was to let herself go again. She was tired of the ups and the downs and the unrelenting want to eat until she was sick. The years of abuse had long since taken their toll – and the only way she could have any kind of control was to take it by force and hold on like hell. So no pie.

When they got home, it was time to put the baby to bed and get the other two into the shower and ready for bed themselves. By the time everyone was in bed, Penelope was exhausted. It was the longest, worst day of her life. She plugged her cell into the charger and flopped onto the bed, feeling like a horrible housekeeper for not having made the bed before they'd left for work.

She wasn't a good housekeeper, and she sure as hell wasn't a gourmet chef. Hell, half the time, she couldn't even load the dishwasher. She was a total failure as a housewife – so clearly, the only reason Derek was with her was because she was hell on wheels in the bedroom. And that wasn't enough to keep them together, now, was it?

She couldn't cry anymore. She was so far beyond tears that it wasn't even funny. All she had left was a throbbing pain in her chest where her heart once had been. Derek had managed to rip it out and stomp all over it in a way so very fundamental that she might never recover. It was wrong, so wrong, that after this many years, it still hurt so very much to let someone in. Because all they had to do was betray you, and then you regressed to the last pain. And when your life was pain after pain after pain, how could you learn to be happy?

She was about to give in to the urge to smother herself with a pillow when her phone began to ring. She hesitated before she looked at the caller ID, then exhaled. "Hey, JJ, I'm not really in the mood to talk –"

"Then don't talk," JJ said with a sigh. "Just listen. Okay?"

Penelope frowned. "Okay, I guess –"

"You were emotionally compromised today," JJ said softly. "And a year ago, I would have hated you for it. When you came to the BAU, I thought I was losing my family: Emily was already gone, and then I thought I was losing Derek and Reid to you – because you just walked in here and everyone loved you. And I'll admit freely that I was jealous. And then you were suddenly Rossi's kid, and Emily was back and you and Derek – I'm sorry. I didn't ever mean to make you think that I didn't like you. You're amazing. And I admire you for being able to just walk in there and take control of the situation – but there are times when you need someone else to talk to. And you don't have Derek or Emily or your father today. So I'm it. You need to talk this out."

"JJ, I appreciate the offer, but –"

"But what?"

"But I don't think I can."

"Well, you can't just sit there and blame yourself for what happened."

"Can't I?" Penelope whispered. "It was my fault as much as it was anyone's – why wouldn't I blame myself for Kevin Lynch going psychotic and losing his mind?"

"Because it wasn't your fault," JJ said in a firm, take-no-arguments tone. "It was no one's fault. Kevin Lynch was never really that stable. Working crime analysis probably wasn't the best thing ever for him."

"How am I supposed to not feel responsible?" Penelope asked. "I let that – that – monster – molest me in front of my husband. And now Derek doesn't want me – he doesn't want anything to do with me. He doesn't want Lynch's seconds. I can't blame him. If I didn't have to live with myself, I'd want out."

"Whoa, back up – what happened with Derek?" JJ asked.

"Nothing that wouldn't have happened eventually," Penelope muttered. "He realized he made a mistake in being with me and made it very clear what he thinks of me."

"What happened at the hospital?" JJ demanded. "You were fine and then you walked out of Derek's room and it was like –"

"He hates me."

"He was high on morphine."

"I don't care how high he was – it doesn't excuse what he said."

"What did he say?" JJ asked gently. "Honey – I can't help if you won't talk."

"I already told you – I'm Kevin Lynch's seconds. My husband hates me and I'm trying like hell not to hate myself right now," she exhaled angrily. "You can't help me with that."

"You didn't do anything wrong," JJ said, her voice growing sharp and rough with fury. "Derek Morgan is an asshole. I'm going to go down to the hospital and finish him myself since Lynch was too much of a coward to do it himself. What the hell kind of a goddamn bullshit move is that? Why would he say that to you? It's slut-shaming on a level of – GODDAMN HIM."

"JJ, don't," Penelope sighed. "He's made it abundantly clear that I'm not –"

"He's such a dick," JJ snarled. "You did what you did to protect him. How the fuck could he do this to you? Ungrateful fucker."

"This is why I didn't want to talk," Penelope sighed. "Because now you're mad at him and it's not okay. I'm the one that should be angry and I can't even work up a righteous anger because he's right. I was stupid to think that I wouldn't get hurt by him – or anyone else."

"Garcia –"

"JJ, all my life I've been told that I was ugly and stupid and wasn't going to amount to anything – and I've proved all the naysayers wrong. But I'm tired of fighting for everything I have. I fought to keep my family and look where it's gotten me. My husband hates me, my father probably hates me, and I know Emily is angry, too. So I'm going to take it – what else can I do? I'm the one making stupid dickhead moves, not them." Penelope terminated the call and almost threw the phone at the wall.

The phone kept ringing: it was JJ, over and over and over again. She felt sick, but the calls finally ended in moments of voicemail where she could ignore them just as easily as she could the ringtone.

She was almost on the edge of sleep when the phone started ringing again. She glanced at it, then jumped. "This is Penelope Morgan," she said, answering the phone.

"I know," Rossi said grumpily. "I'm calling from the room phone. JJ said you weren't picking up her calls, so I thought I'd try –"

"She shouldn't have done that," Penelope sighed. "It's none of her business. It's no one's business."

"Kitten," he said in a stern tone, "I know you keep a lot of shit bottled up – and you can't do that right now. It'll kill you from the inside out like poison. JJ is worried – and now, so am I."

"Dad, I'm fine," she sighed. "I just want to go to sleep and I keep getting interrupted –"

"Penelope Anne Rossi Garcia Morgan, shut up and listen to me," Rossi snapped. "For once, just shut it and listen. I'm not mad at you – JJ said you were afraid I was. I'm proud of you, Kitten. You did what you needed to do – and I would have given everything in this world for you not to have had to do any of that."

"I was protecting my family," she whispered. "You're all I have left – you and Derek and Emily and Hotch and Reid and JJ and Will, Henry, Jackkers, and my babies – that's it. And I would do anything for you all, but how am I supposed to take that risk when everyone is going to think it's not worth it? I can't do this anymore, Dad. I fight and I fight and I fight and I can't fight anymore. I'm going to put in for a liaison transfer to the Department of Homeland Security tomorrow. No more BAU."

"Penelope, don't be stupid," he said with a sigh. "You need to stop and think about this. So please don't do anything rash –"

"Don't talk to me about rash," Penelope whispered. "I've built my life on fucking rash decisions – and this is probably the sanest decision I've ever made. I want so much and can't have any of it, so why do I even bother anyway? Daddy, you should get some sleep. I'll bring the kids by tomorrow when we pick Fran up at the airport."

"Kiddo, avoiding this isn't going to make it go away –"

"I know, Dad – but I can't talk anymore tonight," she whispered. "It's too fresh."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No – I'm sorry."

"Don't you ever apologize for what you feel, Kitten. Ever – do you hear me? You have every right to feel what you feel. Your mother may have told you otherwise, but I'll be damned if you're going to hide behind her skirts now. So you should let it out."

"Please stop," she sighed. "Not tonight – I can't do this tonight."

"I know," he agreed. "Get some sleep, baby. Please try to at least."

"Yeah," Penelope agreed. "You, too."

When she got off the phone, she curled up in the middle of the bed and tried to curl into the smallest possible ball possible. She was so tired and felt so unlike herself – so very, very distraught. But she had no reason to cry anymore, so she stayed quiet and finally thought like she might just fall asleep – when the phone began ringing again.

"It's two-thirty in the morning," she hissed into the phone.

"I know," Derek said softly. "I couldn't sleep."

She choked out a laugh, then hung up. It was a protective reflex – a denial. Something definitive. She had no control, but she could do this one thing –

The phone rang again. She let it go to voicemail, and put the phone back onto the bedside table.

And then she did finally sleep – because there was nothing else she could do.

* * *

><p>July 17, 2012<br>11:39 AM EDT

"Here," Penelope said softly, holding Brielle's seat out to Fran. "You go ahead and take her in to see her daddy – I'm going to check on Dad and Emily."

"You don't want to see Derek?" Fran asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion and concern.

"He doesn't want to see me," Penelope said very quietly and very simply. "So you go ahead and take the kids in and I'll be down the hall."

She walked away quickly and ducked into Rossi's room. Her father was in the middle of being poked and prodded by a nurse and he was looking even more pissed off than normal. "Damn it, would you stop it?" he groused. "That hurts."

"Dad, the sooner she finishes, the sooner it'll stop hurting," Penelope promised.

"What she said," the nurse replied cheerfully. "There, all done – we'll change your bandages in an hour."

Rossi growled at her.

Penelope snorted. "That's where I got the 'terrorize medical personnel' gene," she said cheerfully. "Did you get any sleep?"

"I'm high on painkillers – what do you think?" Rossi replied gruffly.

"I know, silly question," she murmured, settling into the guest chair. "Fran has the kids in with Derek – they'll come by to see you when they're done there. How're you feeling?"

"Like I got shot in the gut by a psycho," Rossi muttered. "You got lucky, Kitten – he was going off about you and what he was going to do to you right before you came in."

"I'm sorry – this is all my fault," she sighed. "If I'd've stayed in Cuba like I was supposed to, none of this would've happened. Life would be okay – just Emma and me and quiet and – and –" She exhaled weakly, forcing herself to find some semblance of inner calm. "But I made choices that have led me to this point and all I can say is that I'm sorry you got hurt."

"Kitten, none of this is your fault," he said, reaching over to hold her hand. "I don't care who says otherwise or why they say so – what happened would have happened even if you hadn't been here. It just would have been worse in many ways if you hadn't been in that room. I'm damn lucky to be alive, kiddo – and the fact that I am is all down to you. And I'm never going to forget what you did, Penelope."

"What did JJ tell you?" Penelope asked.

"Just that you blame yourself."

She nodded and sighed. "I might as well be responsible for –"

"Stop it right now," Rossi said firmly. "You were the only person in that room that had any kind of control over the situation. You were amazing."

"I don't care how amazing I was and how I saved all the hostages and whatever – I almost let him rape me because I thought I had enough control to get you all out of that room and damn the consequences. And now my husband thinks I'm a – and – god – fucking damn it –" Her voice cracked and all the tears she'd been trying to hold back choked her up. "Daddy, I don't know what to do," she exhaled in a rush.

"Does anyone know what to do?" Rossi asked gently. "We make decisions, day by day, hoping that they're the correct ones."

"Derek was so different when he said I was sloppy seconds," she said, the pain settling into her gut like heartburn. "I've never seen him like that – I don't want to see him like that. I can't look at him, knowing what I've done – what I let Kevin Lynch do to me."

"He called you WHAT?" Rossi rumbled in shock.

"I'm not going to repeat it," Penelope said defensively. "It was bad enough hearing it; saying it just makes it feel that much more like the truth. I'm sorry, but –"

"You are no one's seconds," Rossi snapped. "I'm going to get one of these useless nurses to push my bed into Morgan's room so I can beat the shit out of him with a bedpan –"

"NO," Penelope said, her hand flying to her lips. "Daddy, he can't know that I told anyone that he said that – it's only going to make everything that much worse."

"He has no right to –"

"No, you're right, he doesn't," she said, "but you can't interfere in my marriage, even if it ends because of this. It's my problem, not yours. And, right now, the only way I know how to deal with it is to avoid it entirely."

"Have you talked to him or –"

"He called me in the middle of the night and I hung up on him," she sighed. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I don't know. I don't know anything anymore – he turned my world upside down and I can't figure out which way is up."

"If he hurts you again, I'm going to hurt him," Rossi swore annoyedly. "I will punch him in that pretty boy face of his for making my little girl suffer –"

She burst into laughter. "Dad, seriously? Just because you're Italian doesn't mean you have to act like the Godfather, for god's sake."

"Hey, it made you smile," he replied with a tired grin. "My poor Kitten – you've gotta buck up a little bit, Princess. No matter what happens, you've got me and I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm too fucking stubborn."

"You are," she agreed with a small sigh. "So, what's going on between you and my best friend? Because Reid seems to think you're sleeping with her."

"I am," he replied simply. "Or, rather, she's jumping my bones and I'm just hanging on for the ride."

Penelope sighed. "It's a little awkward, don't you think?" she asked. "You sleeping with your kid's bestie, I mean –"

"Consenting adults and all that," he pointed out. "And my kid is an adult, too, so –"

"Don't hurt her," she warned. "She's the one that taught me how to wield a knife. Emily is scary when she's mad: way scarier than I am. So, yeah – if you're sure you want to make a go of it, Dad, you'd better be in it for the long haul."

"I am," he replied testily. "I've begged the bitch nurses for hours to let me go see Emily, but they're making all kinds of noise about possible infection and whatever – because it's not like we haven't already shared bodily fluids or anything…"

Penelope wrinkled her nose. "Dad," she whined, "ew."

"I'm just trying to make a point."

"Point made, accepted, and can we not speak of this moment ever again?" she suggested with a frown on her lips. "Ugh." She shuddered. "Thanks. Now I have mental images burned into my brain."

"Sorry," he replied, laughing, then wincing. "Fuck, that hurt like a sonofabitch."

"Do you want me to call someone?" she asked worriedly.

"No, I'm okay, just – ow."

She squeezed his hand and sighed. "I should go check on Em," she murmured. "But I'll come back and tell you how she's doing, okay?"

"You'd better – before I start calling in favors and beating up the nurses," he grumbled. She rolled her eyes and kissed him on the cheek. "Hey, don't give me that look, little girl –"

"Not so little," she reminded him. "And I had to stop myself from eating an entire pie last night, so I would definitely not be a little girl ever again."

Rossi glowered. "I'm going to hurt that boy –"

"He's a grown man," she reminded him, "so aim for the other knee."

Rossi rolled his eyes, but was smiling, as she left the room. A couple doors further down, she ducked into Emily's room and shut the door behind her. "It's too bad there aren't many soap operas left," she commented.

"It's a Jersey Shore marathon," Emily whimpered, "followed by 16 and Pregnant. HELP ME. I lost the remote."

Once they found the remote – under the bed – Emily immediately put it on CNN. "Thank god you came along, Baby Girl, or I'd've lost what brain cells I had left. They have me on good drugs – I can't feel my nose or fingers."

Penelope chuckled and settled into the guest chair. "Yeah, well, that happens on our drinking nights, anyway," she reminded her gently. "So nothing new."

"Yeah, except I'm high not drunk – how's Rossi?" Emily asked, turning her glazed eyes onto her friend. "I keep hearing him off and on when he's yelling at the nurses."

"He's doing okay," Penelope assured her gently. "He's more worried about you than himself – but that's a man in love for you."

Emily smiled a little, but it faded when she shifted. "How's Hotch? Morgan?"

"Hotch went home yesterday," Penelope murmured. "And Derek's down the hall with Fran and the kids right now."

"And you're with Dave and me instead of him?" Emily asked in disbelief. "What the hell, BG?"

"I'm more worried about you and Dad than I am about Mr. Machismo," Penelope sighed. "So just relax and – you're pretty drugged up, aren't you?"

"I'm dancing on the edge of asleep," Emily said, trying futilely to smother a yawn.

"Then go to sleep," Penelope advised. "You'll feel better when you wake up – and I'll make sure that Dad gets in to see you as soon as they'll let him. I promise."

"Thank you," Emily mumbled, closing her eyes. "Go see your husband, stupid."

Penelope sighed and waited till Emily was asleep before she went back to Rossi's room – and upon seeing him fast asleep, she went into the corridor to wait for the others.

"Mama, Mama, Dad wants to see you," Emma cried as she and Declan burst out of the room and into the hallway. "Can we go see Grandpa?"

"He's sleeping," Penelope said, "but you can go see him if you promise to be quiet."

"Okay," Declan agreed, grabbing his sister's hand and running down the hall to the correct door, where they disappeared.

Fran exited Derek's room with Brielle only moments later. "Going to Rossi's next," she commented. "Did the kids tell you that Derek was asking for you?"

"Yeah," Penelope sighed.

"You don't sound happy about that." It was a statement, not a question in the slightest.

"I hate confrontation," Penelope muttered. "But, since I'm supposedly a responsible adult, it's time for me to pull up my big girl panties and grow up." She leaned down and pressed a kiss to her chubby daughter's cheek. "Be good for Nana," she scolded the little girl, who burbled in reply, grabbing at her toes and blowing spit bubbles.

Taking a couple of calming breaths, she straightened her spine and strode purposefully into Derek's room, then closed the door behind her. He looked over at her and smiled – which was just as bad as if he'd used a machete to stab her straight through the heart. "Hey, you – you hung up on me."

"Yeah, I did," she said, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. "You made it very clear what you thought of me and I didn't want to take up any more of your precious time than I had to. It must be very difficult to make snap judgments."

He blinked at her. "Sweetheart, I don't know what you're talking about." The lack of guile in his eyes made her start shaking and she backed away from the bed one step at a time.

"You said I was Kevin Lynch's seconds – and that you didn't want me anymore," she hissed. "How the fuck do you just FORGET THAT?"

"I never said that –"

"You DID and I've spent hours wondering what I ever fucking did to you, Derek Morgan – you SAID it and I won't EVER forget those words as long as I live," she said, her voice cold as ice and just as cutting. "I've never felt so hurt by someone's words – not even my mom's, and she was a master at fucking with me. You managed to do what no one else ever could: you've well and truly broken me, Derek. If I have to fight every day for us to work, for our family to stay together, I can't do it. Not if you hate me because I let Kevin fucking Lynch finger fuck me to save your fucking life. I'm done, Derek. I'm done with the bullshit. You said those words and you meant them – the look on your face… I'll never forget it. Never."

"Honey, I could've said anything," he said softly. "I was stoned out of my mind on painkillers. I don't remember saying –"

"Don't," she whispered, holding up her hand. "Sex and begging and pleading and wheedling and abusing excuses isn't getting you out of this. Not this time. I'm so close to asking for a transfer right now – and I'd walk away and take the kids with me in a heartbeat. I thought we were a family – I thought you loved me. But I see just how much you love me, and I can't live like that, Derek. I won't. This is the one time – the ONE time – I have to put my foot down. Because it's not okay."

"You're rambling, Baby Girl –"

"DON'T," she cried, pointing at him furiously. "You have to live with the knowledge that I will not forgive you. So grow the fuck up, Morgan, and take it like a goddamn man."

She was very proud of herself when he shut his mouth and she suddenly realized how hot her face was – how red it must be – and that she was shaking with a combination of untempered rage and nerves from the anxiety that came with confrontation. She ducked into the hallway and stood for a long moment with her back against the wall, knowing that if she was a weaker woman, she would've just walked back in there and begged him to make things right.

But she was stronger than that.

And she didn't need him if he was going to subject her to the same abuse she'd experienced at the hands of everyone who had ever claimed to love her. Even if he didn't know that he was doing it.

All she wanted to do was go home and take a long, hot bath and pretend that things would be okay again.


	35. Chapter 35

Yeah, I still don't own anything – and that's okay! :D

Part thirty-five:

* * *

><p>July 22, 2012<br>3:14 PM EDT

"Okay, guys, I want you to take your new clothes upstairs, take the tags off, and put them in your laundry hampers," Penelope said firmly. "I'm going to do two loads before bed, and if your stuff isn't in the hampers, you're not going to have clean clothes tomorrow."

"Moooom, I wanna go outside and play," Emma whined.

"Me too," Declan added.

"Well, do this for me and then you can go play with Clooney and Mudgie in the yard," Penelope promised with a sigh. "Okay?"

"Fine," Emma huffed, yanking her bag of new clothes out of her mother's hands and stomping up the steps. Declan did the same, but without the attitude, and he even flashed Penelope a smile from the upstairs landing.

"Hey, look at that, pretty girl," Fran cooed at Brielle as they came out of the kitchen. "Mama's back – aww, look at that smile, Mama."

"C'mere, you," Penelope said with a smile, accepting the baby into her arms with a chuckle. "Were you good for Nana?"

"Nahnah," Brielle burbled. "Mahmah!"

Penelope laughed. "Uh-huh, you think you know what you want to say but you just take your time, little one," she murmured. Her smile faded slightly as she regarded Fran. "How's the patient today?"

"He's cranky," Fran replied. "He complained a lot when I made him get on the exercise bike for ten minutes. But when I bribed him with cuddle time with Breezy, he changed his tune."

"He needs to be doing his therapy," Penelope sighed.

"He's being stubborn," Fran replied. "And he's angry that you're avoiding him."

"I'm not avoiding him – I'm just not going out of my way to spend time in the same room with him," Penelope protested. "It's not the same thing."

"It might as well be," Fran said. "And I don't agree with any of it –"

"You don't have to agree with it," Penelope said softly. "But, then again, it's not your problem."

"It is my problem."

Penelope sighed and snuggled the baby closer. "I love him, but he's not on my list of people I want to spend time with," she murmured. "And the fact that he's sitting in my living room, whining about not spending time with me, isn't making me more inclined toward doing what he wants."

Fran sighed. "Could you at least go in there and say hello?"

"Fine, whatever," Penelope grunted. "But don't say I didn't warn you – I'll be the crabby one for the rest of the day."

Fran sighed. "Just hear him out, will you?" she asked. "Give him five minutes. I can't stand that the two of you are fighting – and what happens when the kids pick up on it?"

Penelope shook her head and sighed before she carried Brielle into the living room and sat down in the recliner. The silence was deafening, till Derek finally broke it. "I just want you to know that I remember what I said," he said very softly. "And I was wrong for saying it."

"Yes, you were," she agreed. "Thank you for realizing that much. But I can't forgive you, Derek."

"Baby Girl –"

"Don't call me that anymore," Penelope said very quietly. "I'm not your 'baby girl'."

"Penelope, for god's sake, you won't even let me say that I'm sorry –"

"Because I don't want to hear it," she snapped. "I've already heard more than enough from you."

Derek growled under his breath. "Goddess –"

"Stop it," she whispered. "Just fucking stop it." Brielle started to fuss, picking up on her mother's swinging mood. "Derek, I can't live with you if you think I'm a dirty, slutty whore – and you made it clear that's what you think of me. I love you so much, but I can't do this. I can't sit here day after day with you, knowing that's what you see when you look at me."

"I lied to you," he said. "I lied to you to get you to go away – I was in pain and suffering and I didn't want you to see me like that." Derek was frowning, and she felt her heart flip-flop in her chest. "I was just trying to get you to leave. I knew you wouldn't go unless I pushed you out –"

"Derek, don't try to make it better," she whispered. "You did something that no one else in the world could have ever done – you broke me. And you shouldn't be the one to fix me – I have to do that. I love you so much, but right now, I hate you. I hate you so much. You were the one person I was supposed to be able to count on, and you broke me."

"Come here," Derek said, patting the couch next to him.

"No," she whispered. "Because if I do, I –"

"Penelope, come here," he instructed more firmly. "It wasn't a request, Baby Girl."

She hesitated for a long moment, then stood up and joined him on the couch. He put his arm around her waist and sighed. "Derek, please don't –"

"Mama, I can't forgive myself – why would I expect you to forgive me?" he asked. "I'm sorry but that doesn't fix anything, does it?"

"No," she whispered, "it doesn't." Brielle pushed herself around till she was snuggled equally against both of her parents. Penelope swallowed hard, feeling Derek's arm wrapped so tenderly around her waist. It was so natural, so them, but she didn't feel like herself anymore – so how could they be them? But when she tried to pull away, he wouldn't let go. It only made her feel worse that he was holding so tightly to a dream that had been shattered.

"I'm going to do whatever it takes," he said softly. "Whatever it takes to make things right."

"MuhMuh," Brielle mumbled sleepily, yawning and rubbing at her eyes.

"Hey, when did you learn that?" Derek asked, chuckling.

"It's her naptime," Penelope said with a sigh.

"So let her go to sleep," he replied. "She's safe with us –"

"Yeah, but I'm not safe," she replied, gently working his hold on her till she was free. She got up and scooped the baby up into her arms. "You shouldn't fight your mom and the therapists – you need to work on your mobility or you're not going to get cleared to go back to work."

"You gonna start helping me with my therapy?" he inquired. "I'd do more if you were there, encouraging me."

"No, Derek – you have to do this on your own."

"Penelope, don't fucking push me away –"

"I have to," she murmured, retreating from the room as fast as she could.

* * *

><p>August 10, 2012<br>1:15 PM EDT

"We made some progress in our last session," Dr. Thaddeus said with a small smile. "We established that you fear being hurt in the ways that you were hurt growing up, and that you've done many things to protect yourself from just that."

Penelope sighed and crossed her knees, tucking her skirts neatly around her legs. She didn't like that Hotch had mandated therapy for her, but she did feel like she owed it to everyone – especially the kids – to at least try to work through some of her issues. "I want to stop living in fear," Penelope said very softly. "I need to be able to function like a normal human being."

"Mrs. Morgan, we've been talking every day for the last three weeks," Dr. Thaddeus said. "Do you feel like we've made any progress?"

"All I know is that I go back to work feeling like I'm about two inches tall," she whispered. "I'm tired and I feel like I'm just… tiny."

"Can you explain why you feel that way?" Dr. Thaddeus inquired gently.

"No," she murmured, shaking her head.

"You've been reliving a lot of traumatic events," he said. "And when you face those emotions head-on repeatedly, it will make you feel small and insignificant."

She sighed and rubbed the side of her face, chasing away an itch. "Yeah," she finally said. "I guess I've always felt like there's two of me fighting for space in my head – there's the real me and the me that I put out there for everyone to abuse. It's the only way I've been able to survive. It's been that way as long as I can remember."

"Has anyone ever gotten through to the 'real' you?" Dr. Thaddeus inquired, glancing up from his tablet. "Have you ever let anyone break down that barrier?"

"My husband," she whispered.

The doctor nodded. "How did it feel to let him in?"

She shrugged. "It didn't last long," she murmured. "I only ever wanted someone to love me – for me – and what did I get for it? I got stabbed in the heart."

"You're getting ahead of yourself, my dear."

She shrugged. "I'm sorry."

By the time she left her session, she was sick to her stomach and spent the afternoon running searches for the B team between ginger ales and Tylenol. She, for once, cut out of the office on time – five pm – and went to get the kids at Will's. Everyone was thrilled to see her, but she wasn't thrilled to see them. In fact, she was feeling less than maternal – all she wanted to do was dump the kids somewhere with someone to take care of them so she could run away and hide from the world.

They'd made a breakthrough – of sorts – in her session. And she couldn't go back to the way she was before anymore than she could lie to herself and say that things were going to be okay.

The kids exploded into the house and Penelope carried Brielle into the kitchen to get a bottle of juice. She glanced up to see Derek sitting at the dinette, smiling over at her. "Hey, Baby –" She must've looked as bad as she felt because his demeanor immediately changed. "What happened, Mama?"

"Did you get in here by yourself?" Penelope asked, looking him up and down, taking in his crutches and the sweat beads on his brow.

"Yes, but –"

"Good!" she exclaimed. "You'll be back to work in no time."

"Trying to get rid of me, Baby Girl?" he asked.

She sighed and screwed the top onto the bottle. "Derek, I just –"

"Penelope, what happened today?" he asked.

"B team profiled and solved a case involving a woman who killed the person who abused her for most of her life, then went on a murder spree – it felt so good for her to hurt the people who had hurt her that she just lost it. It ended up being suicide by cop," she said very quietly. "And I just kept thinking how much I sympathize with that woman." She looked right at him. "And I had therapy in the middle of it – and we talked about me blaming myself for everything and everyone that has ever hurt me. I just… it's too much, Derek. I want to run away and hide until I stop feeling like I'm worthless."

She was surprised when he struggled to get up and get onto his crutches. With no small amount of effort, he crossed the kitchen and grabbed for her. "You're not worthless," he whispered, burying his face in her shoulder. "There's nothing worthless about you, Baby Girl – why do you think I love you so much? You're so… you. You're brilliant, sexy, strong as hell –"

"I'm not strong," she whispered, clinging to him and crying. "I'm just faking it –"

"Baby –"

"I'm sorry I've let you down," she exhaled, pulling back and swiping at her eyes. "I'm not what you signed on for – I've hurt you as much as I've hurt myself." She plugged the bottle into Brielle's mouth, then turned her attention back to him. "I don't think it's fair to lead you on anymore –"

He took her breath away – literally. His arms around her waist, his lips strongly against hers, stealing the air she needed to breathe. And every moment the kiss lasted, the more she felt her heart filling with joy, banishing the darkness, the self-loathing, the pain away –

When they broke apart, he whispered, "You've never led me on, Baby Girl."

"I can't forgive you," she murmured.

"Baby, I'm not asking you to –"

"I can't forgive you," she repeated, "till I forgive myself."

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," he said, kissing her forehead. "What I did was unforgivable. I can't make it right unless you let me try. You're the only woman I would fight to the death for, Penelope – and I'm coming out of the corner swinging, just to get you back." He tightened his grip on her waist. "But I've got to get steadier on my feet before I start fighting, you know."

She hesitated for a long moment before she whispered, "Do you want to try to come upstairs tonight?"

He shook his head. "Nope, I want to stay in my man-cave," he said gently. "It's safer than –"

"Than overexerting yourself?" she teased.

"Than pushing you into something you aren't ready for," he contradicted. "I love you and I never wanted to hurt you, honey – but I did. So now I have to fix it."

She hugged him with one arm and smiled sadly. "I'm sorry I –"

Brielle spit her bottle out and squealed, "DAAAAAH!"

"Well, that's definitely new," Penelope commented, her smile becoming proud and smug.

"Did you just call for me, Peanut?" Derek asked, reaching over to put his hand over his daughter's belly. She giggled and grabbed him, holding on tight.

"DAAAAH," Brielle agreed.

Penelope pulled away from Derek, letting him steady himself on the countertop. "I've got to go get laundry going –"

"Let Mom do it," Derek said.

"Derek, she's here to help you – not do the laundry and not watch the kids."

"She's going to help me by doing the laundry," he teased, pulling her back toward him. "Unless you just don't want to spend time with me –"

She exhaled shakily. "I don't know what I want," she admitted.

"That's okay," he assured her, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "I can wait."

She nodded and closed her eyes, wondering if the nervous feeling in her stomach would ever go away again.

* * *

><p>August 25, 2012<br>11:22 PM EDT

Penelope awoke in a panic, her arms flailing, a scream on her lips, still feeling vividly Kevin Lynch's hands on her, his lips on hers – she felt dirty, queasy, and ill. The panic died, but her heartbeat didn't slow at all – the nightmare was still too real, too fresh, too vivid. She swallowed hard, trying to banish the disgust. He was dead. She'd already killed him – in reality. But in her mind, Kevin Lynch was still alive and exacting his revenge.

It was so hard to get up and put one foot in front of the other, but she found herself rushing blindly down the stairs and into the kitchen. She immediately went for the cupboard, getting down the bottle of scotch and pouring herself a belt with unsteady hands. She spilled more on the counter than what actually made it into the glass. When she finished drinking, her hands were shaking so strongly that she dropped the glass – it shattered on the countertop and she backed away from the scene of the crime before she did anymore damage.

She couldn't make the flashbacks stop – every time she thought she was getting a handle on things, she felt the phantom fingers crawl up her legs again, making her twitch with revulsion. She was fighting like hell to keep her stomach in check, but the urge to vomit was rising in her throat like bile –

And then arms were around her, holding her, reassuring her. Fran whispered soothing things in her ear and brought her back to the edge of control. "Oh, sweetheart," Fran murmured, rubbing her back. "Shhh – it's okay. It's okay, honey – he can't hurt you anymore."

Penelope pulled away and whispered, "Don't – please don't – it's not okay – it's never going to be okay – I – " The phantom touches morphed into slaps, pokes, vicious little snipes that made her feel like she was a child again. Fran had unknowingly triggered all of the little things that she's surpressed for so long. Memories she'd thought she'd buried safely away.

It was too much. She didn't want to be touched. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't feel anything but her ghosts.

There was only one place she felt safe. She stumbled away from Fran, staggering into the living room. She needed him – she needed Derek.

She fell onto the sofa bed with him, grabbing onto him and holding on so tightly that she could feel his heartbeat against her skin through her pajamas. He stirred and mumbled something sleepily. She was crying so hard she couldn't make it out – but she held him tighter.

All she could do was cling to him and cry – but he finally woke up and whispered, "Baby Girl… oh, honey…"

"She's out of it," Fran warned. "Be careful, Derek – don't make It worse."

"I've got it, Momma," Derek said firmly. "Go back to bed."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Derek said, his voice softening, "I'm sure – go back to bed, Momma. It's gonna be okay." He waited till he heard the office door close, then he dropped a soft kiss to the top of Penelope's head. "Sweetheart, what happened?"

She could barely form the words in her head before they were tumbling from her lips; there was no way she was going to be able to make them sound better. "I felt him touching me and you were so mad at me and then I couldn't stop feeling it and I hate him so much, Derek, because he's ruined us and – and then it wasn't him, it was my Mom and everything is so wrong and I feel dirty and awful and I broke a glass and spilled whiskey all over the counter and I'm a failure at everything I've wanted to do right – but all I wanted was you and I've fucked that up, too." Her heart was hammering in her ears and she couldn't bear to think that he'd shoot her down or make her feel worse. She was letting him into her soul in the only way she could – and it was up to him now.

"Pen –"

"I would've done anything to make him not hurt you more," she whispered. "Anything. I would have let him kill me if it kept you safe. But it hurts so much to say that. It hurts to feel like he's still – and I was so scared, Derek. I was scared that he was going to hurt you and Dad more than he already had. I didn't know what else to do but let him –"

"Baby Girl," Derek whispered.

"No, it's important – let me talk," she said, putting a finger on his lips. "I've never had a family worth fighting for till now. And I won't just roll belly up and admit defeat because you don't love me anymore. I will fight, Derek. I will fight like hell to keep you and keep you safe –"

"I'm supposed to keep you safe, Baby," he said softly, brushing her bangs out of her face and smiling softly down at her. "Where did you get this crazy idea that you have to be my superhero?"

"Because you're the one that goes out and kicks down doors for a living," she pointed out, blinking at him.

"I'm not going to be kicking down doors ever again," he reminded her. "And I love you, Penelope – so much it hurts. The last month has been hell on earth – you've been here but you won't even talk to me."

"I can't forgive you if I can't forgive myself," she reminded him. "And I'm not there yet – I can't forgive myself for being your superhero. Or the girl who fell out of a tree because she was running away from her mom and fell asleep in the tall branches where mom couldn't reach me without a ladder. And I can't forgive myself for thinking that I could live with being Kevin Lynch's sex toy if it meant keeping you from being killed. I've made so many stupid, bad decisions in my life – but I can't take any of them back."

"I wouldn't ask you to," he whispered, pulling her closer and pulling the lightweight blanket up over them. "They're decisions that made you who you are – the woman I love. I was a fucking idiot, Penelope, and I intend to spend the rest of my worthless life making it up to you."

She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. "You're going to have to beg and plead and grovel," she murmured.

"Hard to grovel when I can't get down on the floor," he teased her.

"Well, then, you're going to have to get me off a lot," she commented tiredly. "When you feel better, that is."

He sighed and she almost chuckled at the very male reaction going on beneath her – though whether it was her presence or the thought of sex, she wasn't sure. "It'll be my pleasure," Derek finally growled softly. "Not yours – absolutely mine."

"I feel safe with you," she whispered as drowsiness crept in around the corners of her consciousness. "Don't leave me…"

"I don't plan on it, sweetheart," he replied, wrapping his arms protectively around her. "I love you, Penelope."

"I love you, too," she mumbled, succumbing to sleep.

* * *

><p>September 12, 2012<br>9:02 AM EDT

"Baby Girl, I've gotta do this myself," Derek muttered, leaning heavily on his cane and trying to keep her from supporting him. "It's my first day back –"

"I know, but that doesn't mean you have to do it alone, silly boy," Penelope replied with a tiny smile. "No one will look down their nose at you if you need a little help. It's okay. We're almost there, anyway."

They'd already made it around the corner from the elevator and within spitting distance of the BAU bullpen. Derek all but flushed with pride. He'd been annoyed with himself and the doctors when they'd discovered that he had some permanent nerve damage in his thigh that made full mobility nearly impossible – and he'd done his damnedest to prove them wrong. It was getting easier, but it was likely that there would never be another day when he'd be involved in a door-busting, suspect-chasing case.

She held the door open for him so he wouldn't have to fight with the cane. He smiled at her gratefully and reached for her hand, twining their fingers together. They still had miles and miles to go before either of them healed emotionally, but they were mending physically if nothing else.

"Hey, look what the cat dragged in!" Emily exclaimed. "Reid, JJ, look who's back!"

Derek smiled as everyone flocked around him, and Penelope felt okay with leaving now that there were other people to keep an eye on him and make sure he wasn't overdoing it. She gently pulled her hand from his and went to her office. It was quiet – too quiet – so she put on some music and went to work. Team B had a list of requests for information already, so she was out of tea by the time she realized it was 10.

She ducked out of her office and into the lounge where she got more hot water and another tea bag from her stash, only to turn around and find herself face to face with her husband. "Hot Stuff, you scared me," Penelope gasped, wincing when she realized she'd scalded herself with hot water sloshing out of the mug.

"Where have you been hiding, gorgeous?" Derek asked, lifting her injured hand to his lips and kissing it. "I was worried when you missed the briefing –"

"I've been working on stuff for B team," she murmured. "What's the case?"

"Wyoming," he said. "They're sending Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Rossi – Emily and I aren't approved for field work yet. Three boys kidnapped in the last two weeks, and two bodies. There's a countdown till more kidnappings and more bodies," he sighed.

She nodded. "You should go – but stay at the police station."

"You know it doesn't work that way, Baby Girl – they're leaving us here so we don't run the risk of getting into trouble."

She sighed. "Okay, well – that means long late nights for me and you and your mom have to take care of the kids," she reminded him gently.

"I know," he agreed. After a long silence, Derek commented, "Did I ever tell you how sexy you look in that skirt? It makes your ass look fabu- hi, Rossi."

"Good morning," Rossi said as he came in to get his coffee. "Sorry about you not getting to go on the trip – but you and Emily will definitely be more useful here." He glanced over at Penelope and smiled. "Hey, Kitten – don't forget you'll need to feed the dogs while we're gone."

"Right," Penelope choked out.

"Did I – interrupt something?" Rossi inquired raising an eyebrow.

"Your son-in-law was just telling me how much he wants to go on the trip with the rest of the team," Penelope lied pointedly. They still hadn't managed to get things back up and running the way they were supposed to be – every time they tried to have sex, she shut down mentally. Every time he told her how sexy she was, she scoffed and threw it back in his face. She couldn't help it. The idea that he was going to continue to be in close proximity for an as-of-yet undisclosed amount of time wasn't helping.

"Not gonna happen," Rossi replied cheerfully. "Though it is wonderful to see you skulking around the office again," he teased, winking. "We'll call you when we get to Wyoming – we're wheels up in an hour."

"Okay," Penelope said, waiting for him to leave before she rounded on Derek. "The hell was that comment about my skirt? We're supposed to be professional at work –"

"It's hard to be professional when all I want to do is bend you over the counter and –"

She blanched even though her heart began to race and heat pooled in her panties. "Derek!"

"I CAN'T HELP IT," he said forcefully. "You're so – god – so curvaceous and sexy and – Baby Girl, I don't understand why you –"

"I still feel him," she whispered. "When you touch me, it makes me – it's not okay and I know it but –"

He grunted and stealthily adjusted himself. "Maybe you should think about dressing a bit more professionally at work if you want me to stop hitting on my wife," he commented. "Otherwise, tonight, ten o'clock, our bed – and don't wear panties. Or a bra. Or, really, anything."

"Derek –"

"I'm going to erase him from your mind once and for all," he swore, his voice deepening with a promise and untempered lust.

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay," Penelope exhaled.

He looked at her with dark eyes. "Have you forgiven yourself yet, Baby Girl?"

"No," she murmured. "But I've forgiven you."

He cracked a smile – hell, a shit-eating grin – and swept her into a hungry kiss that was most decidedly not professional. Not to mention anyone passing the room could see them!

When he pulled away, she stumbled a little and made a tiny squeak of surprise. He just smirked at her and said, "Tonight."


	36. Chapter 36

Still don't own anything. Still working like a crazy person. Still finding myself wondering about life, the universe, and everything.

Part thirty-six:

* * *

><p>September 12, 2012<br>10:02 PM EDT

She wasn't sure if she should take him at his word that he wanted her to not wear anything to bed or not – so she stared at her naked body in the bathroom mirror and counted the scars and groaned inwardly about how many bits were jiggly now, and how her breasts weren't as perky as they were a year ago. All things that should scare him off but never quite seemed to.

Penelope reached for her robe and tied it on quickly – because if he wanted this as much as he was professing, he was going to have to work for it. She wasn't just going to part her legs and let him go to town. He was going to have to woo her and assuage her fears and pretend that he wasn't upset that she was scared to death.

She inhaled shakily and bit her lip before smoothing down her hair and wishing she didn't look ridiculous in the terrycloth robe. She looked like a beached whale about to go in for a spa treatment – absolutely horrible. The stress of the last few months had taken its toll and she'd definitely put on a few pounds more than she'd care to admit, and the yo-yoing with her weight wasn't doing her any favors. Except in the cleavage department: she had incredibly magnificent breasts now. No wonder Derek wanted to play with them. She had to admit that she did overperform expectations in that area.

She opened the bathroom door before she could change her mind and stepped through to the bedroom. Derek was lounging around on the bed in a pair of basketball shorts, watching SportsCenter, and he glanced up when she came in. All he did was raise an eyebrow, then change the channel to ComedyCentral – which was playing a rerun of South Park.

She hesitated again, but said, "I wasn't sure if you were kidding about me being naked or not so I thought I'd at least have something on because I'm not –"

"Baby Girl," he said, devouring her alive with the intensity in his gaze, "take that silly thing off."

She swallowed, licked her lips nervously, then complied. The robe hit the ground and his shorts tented so fast that her head spun. "Now," he growled, "get over here. Because we have work to do, Baby Girl – and I intend to have it done before the team calls and demands our attention."

She silently climbed into bed, hiding from him beneath the covers. He glowered at her for a moment, then sighed, realizing how insecure she was feeling – and his expression softened. "I can't help it," she murmured. "I'm chubby and wobbly and –"

"Sexy as hell," he finished for her.

"Derek –"

"Don't argue with me," he said with a small smile. "You know it always ends badly."

"Yeah," she sighed, pulling the covers up around her chin.

"Stop hiding from me," he muttered, tugging on the blankets, but she didn't let go. "Hey – c'mon, sexy Mama…"

"I'm not sexy," Penelope protested softly. "I'm just –"

" –absolutely sexy," he said with a small smirk. "And I intend to show you just how sexy you are – so stop fighting me, woman."

She sighed. "Derek –"

He slid under the blankets and grinned at her. "Two can play at this game," he said, ducking beneath the covers and tickling her bare legs. She inhaled sharply when he tickled her ankle, then worked his way up her legs.

She whimpered and fought back a giggle – then she threw back the blankets and came face to face with her husband, who was grinning wolfishly up at her from about knee-level. "Goddess, you gonna play fair now?" he asked, winking.

She whimpered again, but didn't fight when he kissed her leg. He nibbled gently when he didn't get more than the soft sigh that escaped her lips; this time, she choked out a moan. "You play fair," she pleaded.

"Oh, I definitely intend on playing fair, gorgeous," he growled, nipping his way up her leg till he was nestled between her thighs. "My girl always gets the best, baby –"

She whimpered and said, "What if I don't – Derek – "

"Baby Girl, I'm not going to do anything that we haven't done before," he said softly, nuzzling her thigh with his stubble. "And if you need me to stop, just say so."

"I'm scared," she whispered, closing her eyes when he nuzzled again. It tickled a little, but mostly, it was making that delightful warmth flood her body again. She'd been frightened that she'd never feel aroused again without feeling those ghosts taunting her, but Derek wasn't who she should be fighting. He was trying, so hard, to make her happy, to take away the pain and the darkness; she needed to trust him to hold her heart in his hands again.

He kissed her thigh, and said softly against her skin, "I understand, Baby Girl – more than you'll ever know." The words were exhaled on warm breath that tickled and caressed her leg, making her squirm and her heartbeat race. She made a tiny noise in the back of her throat and caught him looking up at her. She knew then that he was taking his cues from her – he wasn't just going to rush into things.

"Derek," she whispered, "I trust you." He looked up at her, brow furrowed with concern, but she smiled down at him, trying to hold back the worry, keep it out of her smile. "I trust you, baby," she murmured, sitting up enough that she could reach down and stroke his head with deftly gentle fingertips. "Okay?"

"If you want me to stop, say so," Derek said gently. "I won't push you."

"Push me," she said. "Make me do it, Derek. I'll never get over it if I don't face it, right? Maybe I –" She stopped speaking because a moan wrested itself from her throat – he'd already moved on to the sweet spot. "Oh…" she exhaled weakly as he parted her legs just a bit more, then dove in for another long, luxe lick.

She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on how it felt to be worshipped again – instead of that little voice inside her head that was screaming in panic. She was determined to overcome this at all costs. She couldn't let Kevin Lynch hold her hostage any longer.

The heat diffused through her limbs, making her feel light, buoyant, delightfully high on endorphins and her husband's gentle, tender touches. He changed tactics, sucking on her clit and making her buck and cry aloud. She couldn't hold it back – no matter how hard she tried.

That screaming voice in her head got louder and louder the closer he brought her to the edge – she was hovering on the edge of madness, when she cried, "Stop – Derek –" But it was barely more than a whisper in the real world, and it was too late. She collided with utter bliss and came apart beneath him, everything breaking within her. But…

Everything came back together, solidified, became stronger. She didn't feel ashamed anymore; she just felt loved, adored, needed. It wasn't just sex – it was healing, it was benediction.

He didn't let up – he just kept licking, kissing, sucking. She was shaking with the effort of holding back the next toe-curling orgasm, but when she gasped and moaned, her breath coming in frantic pants, he backed off – leaving her dangling. "Damn it, Hot Stuff," she exhaled, "don't stop – please don't stop – I'm so close – and it's so good – I need you, baby…"

"You never said anything to him," Derek said softly, moving his thumb to her clit, circling it with a single sweet stroke. Her hips bucked, her back arched, she bit her lower lip, trying to keep control. "The whole time he touched you, you never told him how to make it good for you," he whispered, keeping her tense with tightly-coiled pleasure.

"I didn't want him – not then, not now – not ever," she choked out. "Only you." She bent her knees just a little bit more, aching for him to press just a bit harder, just a little bit more to the left – and then she'd be flying again. "God, Derek – stop fucking teasing me – stop it – I need you – I need more, baby – please. Please." The last plea was breathless, so soft as to be almost nonexistent.

But he heard it.

She gagged the little voice in her head and closed her eyes, letting him take control – she came unwound when he slipped two fingers inside her, curling them and flicking his thumb over her clit again. Penelope loved the way he made her feel – how could she have denied this again? How could she have let that voice of doubt rule her?

He kissed his way up her body, lavishing her belly and breasts with such sweet, tender touches that she was whimpering and writhing by the time he actually reached her lips for a proper kiss. She raised her knees, clutching against his body, holding him close to her. Their hips pressed together, his erection straining against his trunks – and she was so wet and ready for him. Their tongues caressed, the kiss deep and so very, very intimate. It was all she could do to keep from going crazy on him. Her body was on fire, desperate for him to just take her already.

"Baby Girl –" he exhaled into her mouth between kisses.

"More," she breathed. "I need you."

"Baby, my knee is –"

"Okay," she murmured, breaking away and releasing her hold on him. He yanked his boxer briefs off and threw them across the room blindly: Penelope laughed when they landed on her dress form in the corner. He grumbled a little and rolled onto his back. "Hey," she murmured, "let's just –" She squealed when he grabbed her and began the cycle of hungry kisses again.

Her hand slid between them, stroking his length, and she was all but whimpering into the kisses. He was groaning and growling, alternating between needy and predatory, nipping at her lip, playing with her breasts, grabbing her ass and squeezing. She lifted her leg, throwing it over his hip, leaving herself wide open and vulnerable.

His hands wandered till they landed on her hips, steadying her and allowing him to thrust deep into her with one slick, hot motion. She sucked in a sharp breath, biting down on his lip, feeling so hot, sexy, wanton, as they thrust and ground against each other, seeking release. Eventually, she took control and rolled him onto his back, riding him until he shouted "PENELOPE!" in his climax. She was so close, so very close – and the naked desperation in his voice was all it took to send her over the edge, spasms overwhelming her motor cortex and making her go limp with the force of her orgasm.

He held her close, whispering things in her ear, promises, sweet things that were only meant for her, and she snuggled closer into him. "I love you," she breathed. "Thank you, Derek – thank you, for being patient. For making it up to me. I can forgive myself now, for the thing with Kevin… because it means you're okay. You're okay and I'm okay now." She smiled and kissed his chest. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Hot Stuff. I didn't mean to."

"Shh, Baby Girl," he whispered. "You've still got a long way to go before things are okay – and I can wait."

"You shouldn't have to," she murmured.

He pressed a kiss into her hair and whispered, "I told you already – I fucked up and I'm going to do everything I can to fix it."

She sighed. "How's your knee?"

"I pulled it a little," he admitted. "I'll be fine – "

"Honey, let me get you some water and your painkillers –"

"NO," he said forcefully. "I'm done with the meds. I'm sick of them. I'm done, Baby Girl."

"Then some Advil," she said gently. "Something to help with the swelling."

"Baby, just let me rest it. I'll be fine."

She sighed and murmured, "I don't want you to suffer anymore, Derek – you pushed yourself too far. You should've said –"

"Mama, I'm fine," he assured her. "I love you – and that was hot. Hotter than our first date. Hotter than when we made love in the rain in the back yard the night I moved in."

She smiled and whispered, "I didn't want to disappoint you."

"You don't disappoint me, Baby Girl."

"I disappoint myself," she murmured. "And that's worse – but it's okay. I'm working to make that stop. You're helping." She hugged him tighter. "Love you, you gorgeous piece of hunky manflesh that's all mine."

He chuckled and said, "I love you, too, my sexy, sexy Goddess. And if you let anyone else touch you, I won't be held responsible for bashing their head in."

"Caveman," she accused.

"Only for you, baby," he whispered. "Now, we're gonna have to make sure Momma knows that we couldn't help ourselves –"

Penelope giggled. "I think she knows, Hot Stuff."

* * *

><p>September 15, 2012<br>12:52 PM EDT

Penelope rubbed her eyes and sighed. She was beyond exhausted – the team had been called away on a brutal case a couple of days prior and she hadn't even been able to get home to take care of business. Every time she tried to get away, she got called back into the office. She caught cat naps here and there between calls and when her searches went awry.

She was beginning to think there was more coffee than blood in her veins.

The coffeepot was calling her again – tea was not going to cut it. She was about to get up and go get another cup when the phone rang. "Oracle of the known and unknown – more unknown that known," she murmured tiredly. "But I'd like to know the back of my eyelids for a while, if you know what I mean…"

"Hey, Baby Girl," Derek said softly. "Have you eaten any lunch?"

"No – I was just going to get more coffee."

"Sweetheart, put that cup down and go get a sandwich," he ordered. "When I get back, we're going to Martinelli's with the kids."

She yawned. "Promises, promises, Hot Stuff – you got a search you want me to do?"

"Nope," he said. "The rest of the team is bringing in our guy – I'm just sitting here, waiting for wheel's up. And trying to make my gorgeous wife eat her damn lunch."

"I'm just waiting for Hotch to tell me I can go home," she sighed. "I'm so tired I can't see straight."

"Go home, Baby Girl," Derek instructed. "You've done everything we could've asked for –"

"I don't think I should be driving," she sighed. "Maybe I'll take a nap."

"Mom's taking good care of the kids," Derek reminded her. "So don't worry about that – just get some rest, Baby Girl." He paused. "Did I tell you there are going to be some changes in the unit?"

She groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Now isn't the time to be delivering bad news."

"It's not bad news; not really," he contradicted. "Hotch is being promoted to Section Chief," he said cheerfully.

"How is that good news?" Penelope sighed. "That leaves us without a boss –"

"Oh, no, someone else is getting promoted," he said in a sing-song voice that was intended to irritate her into asking who.

"Stop fucking with me," she whined. "I'm too tired for this crap."

"Well, then, nevermind –"

She sighed. "Derek, seriously? I already know you got promoted. I'm not just a pretty face – I have access to the entire FBI system, remember?"

"Aren't you happy about it?"

"I'm propping my eyelids up with toothpicks, my noir hero – I'm probably not going to remember this conversation when I wake up," she muttered. "We'll talk about this later, okay? I am thrilled that you got promoted and blah blah blah but I don't even know which way is up at the moment."

"Go lie down," he insisted gently. "I'm sorry I –"

"I'll see you when you get back," she mumbled, stifling a yawn.

She didn't remember how she got to the sofa or how long she'd been passed out – but she did wake up when Derek opened the door to her office. There was a subtle difference between him opening the door and anyone else opening it – there was a distinct effort to do it quietly on his part, always. Everyone else just flung it open, ignoring the screeching sound from the hinges that needed a good dose of WD-40. She started awake, rolling off the couch in the process, landing flat on her ass.

"Ow," Penelope muttered, looking up at his slightly amused face, blurry face – oh yeah, she'd left her glasses on the desk before she'd taken up residence on the sofa. "I think blurry you is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she commented softly, a silly smile crossing her lips. "But not-blurry you would be better," she said pointedly.

Derek retrieved her glasses and helped her up off the floor. "Ready to go home?" he asked. "Paperwork can wait till tomorrow – it's almost midnight already."

"Already?" she asked, smothering the yawn that threatened to erupt with her hand. "It feels like it couldn't come fast enough – I was having such a good dream, too…"

"I'll bite: what dream was that?" he asked, grabbing her cardigan and helping her into it.

"Oh, it was a pretty good dream about being home with you in our big, soft bed, and being ravished within an inch of my sanity," she teased. "But then I woke up worrying about what's going to happen to me now that you're going to be the Unit Chief – we can't work in the same department when you're the supervisor."

"Already taken care of," he said cheerfully as he grabbed her go-bag. "You're getting a new title, Agent Morgan."

"Better than Mrs. Morgan?" she teased, winking.

"No, but it puts you in a supervisory capacity, so there isn't a conflict between us working together," he said pointedly. "You'll be getting the paperwork on it tomorrow, I think – Supervisory Technical Analyst permanently assigned to the BAU."

She rolled her eyes. "So there's a new word in there – big hairy honkin' whoop-di-do."

"And a new badge," he said. "With your married name on it."

That wasn't an eye-rolling moment. She squealed and threw her arms around him. "FINALLY!"

He laughed and said, "Yeah, I thought you'd like that, Sugar Lips."

"You know, I'm kind of hungry," she admitted as they strolled through the dimly lighted bullpen on their way to the elevator. "I didn't realize it till now – I never did get lunch."

He chuckled and pressed a kiss into her hair as they waited for the elevator to reach them. "Well, I know for a fact that Momma made lasagna for dinner tonight, and that there are leftovers…"

"Mmm, lasagna," Penelope sighed, punching the Lobby button. "Is it any wonder I like pasta so much? Look who my dad is." She chuckled and hugged Derek around the waist. "How was your first case out in the field again?" she inquired. "I noticed you've given up your cane for Lent," she pointed out sarcastically.

"I can take it," he said. "Barely a limp –"

"Liar," she sighed. "Stop trying to keep up appearances, Baby – it's only going to make things worse."

"I still have to teach self-defense classes and –"

"Baby," she murmured, "you can't do everything. Don't hurt yourself by trying."

"What, you gonna be my Mom now, too?" he teased.

"If I have to," she replied. "Let's get home, eat some food, and go to bed."

"Mmm, bed," Derek said with a wolfish grin. "That's where my girl gets frisky and –"

"Your 'girl' plans on sleeping," she rejoined with a smirk. "But I could be up for a little bit of fun before I pass out…"

He growled under his breath and muttered, "Still at work, still have to be professional – cameras everywhere –"

She giggled. "Oh, honey, you're cute, but the idea of hacking into the system to destroy the evidence of us fucking in the elevator is making me really tired."

"Woman –"

She grinned up at him. "Hmm?" she asked in an innocent tone that was all but devilish in its teasing intent.

"Stop it," he grunted. But his scolding words were belied by him twining his fingers with hers and holding her hand tight. That was something she wouldn't hack the system to erase – she liked knowing that he was physical in his attentions to her in public… within reason.

The drive home was silent aside from the music on the stereo – they were both consumed with their thoughts, too tired to make empty conversation. Dinner was also all but silent as they both packed away a couple pieces of lasagna and Derek took the dishes to the sink. He went upstairs to check on the kids and she went to the laundry room to throw the dirty laundry from their go bags into the washer. By the time she made it upstairs, he was already face-down on the bed, looking for all the world like a kid sleeping in his parents' bed.

She caught him peeking at her while she undressed and shimmied into one of his old t-shirts. "Nice try, Buster," Penelope teased with a little smile. "You almost had me fooled into thinking you'd fallen asleep –"

"Till you saw the whites of my eyes?" he shot back, rolling onto his side and looking her up and down appreciatively. "Damn, Mama, you're one good-lookin' woman…"

"Whatever," she scoffed, heading to bed. "You just like seeing your old CPD shirts on me because they're almost threadbare and you can see everything –"

"Well, yeah," he agreed, "but they also remind me of how goddamn irresistible you are."

She rolled her eyes and hopped up onto the bed, grunting a little when she didn't land comfortably – the problem with having a massive bed was that she had to spend way too much time finding a comfortable position … and then he wanted to cuddle in the middle. "I still refuse to believe that you think a body that jiggles like Jell-O is irresistible," she commented dryly.

His eyes darkened in response and he cleared his throat. "You're playing with fire, Baby Girl –"

"Oh, don't I know it," she replied in a sing-song tone. "And we're both tired –"

"Get over here," he growled, grabbing for her. Eventually, he worked her into the center of the bed with him, tucked up in his arms, cradled tightly. "I love you, but I'm too tired to play games tonight, gorgeous. Let's just get some sleep."

"Good idea," she murmured, liking just being close to him, smelling him, feeling comforted in a terribly simple, terribly primal kind of a way. "I love you."

He didn't answer – but it wasn't because he didn't love her any less… he'd just already fallen asleep.


	37. Chapter 37

Okay, so, I still don't own ANYTHING. You already knew that, though.

I apologize for taking so long to update: I got a promotion at the day job and have spent many hours training, stressing, and wishing I could throw things at people. At the end of the day, I am brain fried. So, yes, I present an interlude that's been 2 months in the writing.

* * *

><p>Part thirty-seven:<p>

* * *

><p>October 31, 2012<br>7:37 PM EDT

"Come ON, Dad," Declan whined from the foot of the steps. "We've been ready to go trick or treating for an HOUR –"

"Yeah, Dad," Emma agreed irritably. "My glitter's itchy – Mom put too much on. I wanna go trick or treating –"

Penelope chuckled and balanced Brielle on her hip. "Guys, Dad doesn't like Halloween – so don't be surprised if he's not wearing a costume when he comes down," she said.

"Well, you dressed up as Cyndi Lauper, so he can get dressed up, too," Emma protested.

Penelope smiled indulgently at her children and took in their costumes. Emma had dressed up like a hippie with clothes out of both her mother's closet and her own – and her long blonde hair was in loosely braided pigtails. Declan had gone the complete opposite route and was dressed up as a miniature, blonde, James Dean. He was so cute she just wanted to pinch his cheeks and giggle, but she refrained from embarrassing him in public – or private, for that matter. And she'd tucked Brielle into a onesie that said "Zombie Bait" and had carefully used mineral makeup to make her adorable little monster into a baby zombie.

And, very easily, she'd dressed herself up as Cyndi Lauper – or at least, that was what she'd told the kids. In reality, she'd just dug shit out of boxes and the back of the closet and thrown it on, pretending that she was going for that "punk rock" look. It was kind of frightening that she had a closet that looked like a backstage pass to a Siouxie and the Banshees concert – fishnets and bold colors and crazy things.

"Derek, if you wait any longer, we're going to miss Hotch's party," Penelope yelled up the stairs.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Derek groused as he came out of the bedroom.

Her eyes narrowed as he came down the stairs. "You're wearing normal work clothes," she pointed out. "And your badge –"

"Yeah," he replied, "I'm going as an FBI agent."

"DAAAAD, THAT'S CHEATING," Declan and Emma shouted in one voice.

Penelope rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yes, Derek, that is cheating – but we're going to be late if we don't get a move-on, so it'll have to do. But next year, you're wearing a real costume – no protesting allowed," she said firmly, shaking her finger at him.

"What did you do to the baby?" Derek asked in alarm when he saw Brielle's makeup job.

"Nothing that a hungry flesh-eating zombie virus wouldn't do," she replied cheerfully. "Let's go!" They were all meeting up at Hotch's, where JJ and Penelope were planning on taking all the kids trick or treating while the rest of the adults had kid-free party time. It was a good deal – she and JJ had become closer as time went by and they worked as an efficiently deadly Mommy Team together.

They piled into the SUV, Emma and Declan fighting over who got which seat – as usual. Finally, Emma was settled behind Derek and Declan was sulking behind Penelope, and they could go. Brielle had it easy – her carseat was buckled in the middle of the row. She just sat there, playing with her shoes and giggling like a fiend.

It was something they never got used to – Brielle was a hella happy baby. She smiled and giggled and babbled a lot, and when she'd started crawling around one day, she'd been giggling the whole time, as if the whole world had opened up to her and she was so very, very excited to see everything. And now, she was pulling herself up on her chubby little legs and falling over all the time – and every time she fell over, she laughed and laughed and laughed like it was the best game ever.

Penelope was terrified of what was going to happen when she started walking. So she'd already baby-proofed everything in the living room, dining room, kitchen, and the rooms she could get into upstairs. Thank GOD Brielle wasn't climbing out of her crib yet – once that started, all bets were off. She was going to be hell on baby feet, that was for sure.

"MAHMAHMAH!" Brielle squealed from the back seat. Penelope reached over her shoulder and ruffled her daughter's sparse hair, and the baby flailed her arms around and shrieked, "EHHHMAH! ECK! DAAAAHDAAAAAH!"

"Oh, she's in a mood tonight," Derek chuckled from the driver's seat.

"Oh yeah," Penelope agreed. "They all are – you sure you don't wanna come trick or treating with JJ and me?" she inquired with a sly grin. "We could always use an FBI agent to keep the kids in check," she teased, winking.

"Mom, he'd just embarrass us," Emma sighed from her seat where she was looking out the window. "He'd be all whipping his gun out and stuff and it would be weird."

Derek was finding it hard to keep a straight face, especially since Penelope was in the exact same boat – there was something so innocent in the way Emma said "whipping his gun out" that made it entirely inappropriate in their minds. Because they'd been running at loose ends for almost a week and it was about time for Derek to be whipping out something else entirely –

But that would have to wait a couple more days, till they had a weekend to themselves. Rossi and Emily were going to take Emma and Declan down to Disney World for the weekend because they hadn't been able to during the summer when everything was off the chain insane. But god help them – running around a theme park with an eleven year old and a ten year old was going to be hellacious at best, and Penelope knew she'd be getting update texts from Emily saying, "Never having kids," more than once during the weekend.

They already had plans – that didn't necessarily include utter, baseless debauchery – involving painting Emma and Declan's rooms, buying a better futon for the office, and getting a new bed set for the master bedroom. Okay, maybe it was going to be a boring weekend, but there was nothing on earth wrong with that – excitement is highly overrated. Besides, they still had Brielle to chase after, so it wasn't like they were going to be alone long enough to get in a full day of horsing around anyway.

Come to think of it, the only time they'd ever really had time to make love from the time the sun came up till the sun went down – and then some more – was when they got married. They would have to rectify that situation at some point, but it would likely be a while yet before they could get away. That was fine, though – Penelope was happy to take stolen moments and use them to her advantage.

"So no trick or treating with Dad?" Penelope asked.

"Ugh, no," Emma sighed with a scowl.

"Well, then I guess I'm staying at the party," Derek said, looking over at Penelope and smirking. "I'll have to find a pretty girl to flirt with –"

"Very funny, handsome," Penelope said, reaching over and squeezing his hand. "You know I'm more than a little possessive of my husband."

"I know you'll shoot anyone who actually catches me long enough to flirt with me," he teased.

"Mom, why aren't we there yet?" Declan whined excitedly. "I wanna get some candy!"

"Yeah," Emma added.

"Mamama!" Brielle added fiercely from her car seat. Penelope had no doubt that the baby had no idea what the hell the fuss was about, but she was all too happy to get involved in the noise levels.

"Okay, okay, we're almost there," Derek said. "Everyone hold your horses and chill out. I've got this."

Penelope stifled a giggle, and he glared at her for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road. "Woman, I am going to spank you later," he promised very quietly so the kids wouldn't hear.

She chuckled and replied, "You'll have to catch me first."

"Oh, I will catch you and I will make you forget the chase," he teased.

"Promises, promises, Hot Stuff," she murmured as he turned into Hotch's driveway – not that there was much room left for them. The rest of the team was already there, including Rossi; how he'd escaped before they had was a matter of some debate and mystery.

They were walking up the driveway when JJ and Will appeared with Henry and Jack all ready and rarin' to go – Jack was dressed as a ninja, and Henry was dressed up like a cowboy. "You know, we'll take them trick-or-treating," JJ said. "You two go on inside and enjoy the party. Hotch has The Mummy on TV and he made mulled wine. Who knew he was domestic?"

Penelope laughed and kissed Brielle on the cheek. "You wanna go with Auntie JJ and Uncle Will, princess?" The baby responded by squealing with a goofy grin on her face and leaning over straight into Will's arms. "Well, I guess I know where I stand now," she teased.

"On your feet?" Will said with a grin.

"Yeah, something like that," she replied, holding Derek's hand. "Well, come on, Mr. Big and Tough FBI Agent – let's go bob for apples and drink some wine."

"Sounds like heaven," Derek replied with a smirk.

"You three be good," Penelope said, but the words fell on deaf ears; the kids were already bouncing off the non-existent walls and they hadn't gotten any candy yet. She pulled three folded pillow cases out of her purse and handed one to Emma, one to Declan, and one to Will for Brielle. "Seriously, if they cause any problems, just call me or Dad – and we'll straighten them out so fast…" She looked directly at Emma. "You cause Will and JJ any trouble and you don't get ANY of the candy you get as loot," she said firmly.

"Mom, that's not fair!"

"Exactly. Life isn't fair – so play by the rules."

Emma huffed and stomped off.

JJ chuckled and said, "You know, I think we'll manage. Stop worrying so much."

"I only worry because I know her," Penelope pointed out. "And she's one of those crazy kids who suckers you in, thinking that she's just this nice, cute kid, and then BAM – she's a holy terror."

"Oh, you mean like every other kid on the planet?" Will teased, giving Brielle a kiss on the cheek. "C'mon, let's get this show on the road."

"Hey, Uncle Morgan?" Jack yelled from the bottom of the driveway.

"'Sup, Jackkers?" Derek replied.

"If I'm a ninja, how come you guys can see and hear me?" Jack asked. "Aren't ninjas invisible?"

Penelope stifled a giggle and said, "You better know how to answer that, because I don't –"

Derek smiled back at Jack and said, "You forgot to be invisible today."

"Oh, okay!" Jack said cheerfully, running off down the sidewalk with Henry and Declan.

"Hey, hey, don't get too far ahead of me," JJ insisted as the group wandered away.

"They've got their work cut out for them," Derek pointed out with a chuckle.

"They volunteered," Penelope rejoined with a smile. "Who's going to turn down two free baby-sitters? Not this girl."

"You never do," he said.

"Because I did it alone for a damn long time – and now that there's three instead of one, hell yes, I want to get away and not do anything," she replied, walking inside with him. "And, for your information, that doesn't make me any less of a good mother; it just means I need sanity breaks now and then."

"I never said you weren't a good mother," he replied.

"Morgan, where's your costume?" Emily called from the couch, laughing. She was dressed like Marilyn Monroe – even down to the flippy blonde wig and fake beauty mark.

"This is my costume," he said.

"LAME," Reid pronounced. He was wrapped up in white shreds of burlap and cotton, and his face was painted a disgusting combination of brown, green, and black that looked like preserved, decomposing flesh. "You could have –"

"The kids and I already had this conversation, Reid," Derek said pointedly, glowering at the younger man. "Because, apparently, I embarrass them."

"Isn't that what parents are supposed to do?" Rossi asked from his spot beside Emily on the couch. He was dressed up as 30's mobster – not really a stretch in anyone's imagination, or a surprise. It was kind of implied throughout the year that he would always be the same thing; and it didn't change.

"Aren't parents supposed to do what?" Hotch asked, coming into the room with a tray of snacks, which he set on the coffee table.

"Embarrass their kids," Rossi said.

"Yes," Hotch replied. "It's essential to forming a child's personal identity."

"Thanks, Reid," Derek said sarcastically. "Hotch isn't wearing a costume, why aren't you all picking on him?"

"I am," Hotch said. "I'm in my lawyer suit."

Penelope stifled a giggle. "And he's hosting the party – he can do whatever he wants."

Derek grumbled under his breath. "I still think Halloween is a thing you do when you're a kid – and then you grow up and don't have to do it again," he said. "Except to please your own kids."

Penelope smirked at him and squeezed his hand. "I like it when you dress up," she teased.

"Oh dear god, I did not need that mental image," Rossi protested. "Thank you, Penelope. Where's the brain bleach when I need it?"

"Under the sink next to the bottle of eye-bleach," she said, leveling a glare at him. "I did not need to see what I walked in on in the pool house the other day."

Emily had the courtesy to blush. Rossi just scowled at her.

"Okay, so, we have eyeballs and brains and –"

"Hotch, please tell me that stuff is for the kids," Derek sighed. "Because I'm not in the mood."

"There's some regular snacks in the kitchen," Hotch said dismissively. "You're usually the one calling for a party," he pointed out. "What stick got rammed up your butt?"

Derek shrugged off Penelope's hand and strode into the kitchen without another word.

"He's been in a bad mood all day," Reid said, trying to prompt Penelope into revealing something they didn't know.

Alas, she knew even less than they did. "I don't know what's up," she admitted.

"He's always a pissy-pants about Halloween," Emily said, frowning a little. "I don't know why – I never asked. I don't think he would've told me why anyway. He used to just get a 'Halloween honey' at the club and take her home."

Penelope wrinkled her nose. "Thank you for reminding me that he's not pure and virginal," she said sarcastically.

"Brain bleach, Kitten," Rossi croaked. "I know you two have sex, but come on – you're giving your aging father a heart attack here."

Penelope rolled her eyes and followed Derek's path, finding him in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter with an unreadable expression on his face. "Hey," she murmured, taking a spot next to him against the edge of the granite countertop. She wrapped her arm around his waist loosely, and leaned against his arm. "I know this isn't your favorite holiday, but –"

"You know I was molested," he said, his voice low and steady, like he'd been rehearsing it for a long time. "One of his favorite nights to get at me was Halloween."

Her loose grip tightened into a hug. "Baby, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know – no one knew. But they're all worried about you."

He shrugged. "It's been 30 years since it started, and it's still raw."

"It doesn't go away," she whispered. "You just deal with it or you push it aside and pretend it didn't happen. It lurks and comes out at the most unexpected times. Believe me; I understand more than you know."

He sighed. "I'm trying to be enthusiastic for the kids' sake, but –"

"It hurts?"

"A hell of a lot more than even I thought it would."

"Well, don't worry about the kids," she advised. "They'll get a bunch of candy and be excited because they did – and then we can raid the candy stash at the end of the night and steal all the malted milk balls and things they don't like." He bit back a laugh, but she felt it shaking his shoulders, and she smiled. "Besides," she added, "I hear you like a 'Halloween Honey' to finish up the night with."

"Woman, I like distraction."

She smirked. "Uh-huh."

"What's rolling around in that demented mind of yours?" he asked. "When you get quiet and smug like that, I get scared. But for good reason – you carry a gun AND a knife. And you're schooled in explosives."

She chuckled. "Oh, silly, Mama would never hurt her Stud Muffin."

"You promise?" he asked teasingly. "Pinkie swear?"

Her chuckle turned into a giggle. "Derek Morgan, I swear, some days you're worse than a kid."

"If I was a kid, I'd miss all the fucking," he commented dryly.

She rolled her eyes. "Mr. Unit Chief, you get plenty of that," she replied. "But we're in Hotch's kitchen and anyone could walk in at any time – or I'd probably take you up on your not so subtle hint."

"So close the door," he pointed out.

"You're so naughty – can't you wait till we get home?"

"My knee isn't hurting now; it will be by the time we get home."

She rolled her eyes. Not that his knee hurting was a bad thing – she'd gotten to play cowgirl more times lately than she could count on both hands, and it was turning out to be his favorite thing; to the point of him feigning knee pain in order to get her on top. All he had to do was ask: she was more than willing to do all the work and reap all the rewards. She liked him deep and hard, and that was –

"I need me a Halloween Honey," he teased, pulling her back to reality, away from her feverish fantasies that made her panties wet in the middle of their Section Chief's kitchen in the middle of a Halloween party of all fucking times.

"Does the position have any particular stipulations?" she inquired.

"Dress up like a hottie and make me a happy man," he replied.

"Does this count?" she inquired, gesturing at her throw-together costume.

"Woman, I wanna rip those fishnets off and see if you have panties on or not – and how wet you are for me in my big bad FBI agent costume…"

She snorted. "I have panties on. You don't have kids and go anywhere without underwear."

"Well, okay – how wet are they?"

"You know it doesn't work that way, Hot Stuff," she teased. "You have to get me going –"

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I don't want to lie on my back tonight and let you do all the work. I want to be the one doing all the work – and I want you to scream."

"Mmm, that's a tall order," she murmured, feeling warmth start spreading through her. "Are you gonna wind me up and then disappoint me?"

"Hell no," he growled. "I'm going to make you a very happy woman."

She chuckled. "Mmm, that's what I like to hear." She squeezed him, then released her hold on him. She knew the risks, and decided that, stacked up against the rewards and benefits, she would be able to come out ahead. So she walked to the kitchen door and swung it shut with an audible click. Then she turned back to her husband, who had raised an eyebrow. She sauntered back, swaying her hips saucily as she took each purposeful step, and reached for his belt. "I feel a little naughty," she commented.

"Only a little?" he asked as she unzipped his jeans and pulled everything – pants, belt, boxers – down around his thighs.

"Just a little," she replied, smirking up at him with a gleam in her eye. "You need to stop wearing such tight pants – those little bitches who think they have a shot with you will get ideas."

"I wear them for you," he growled. Her response was a chuckle; she grabbed his cock at the base and tugged a couple of times before laying a gentle, teasing kiss on the tip. "Baby Girl, don't play games –"

"No games here," she said cheerfully. He didn't have time to say anything else before she began lavishing his erection with attention – kisses, gentle sucking, teasing nips with her teeth that made him groan and grab the edge of the counter. By the time she took him all the way into her mouth, his hips were bucking with her every move – it didn't take long for him to finish. She leaned back on her heels with a satisfied smile as she delicately wiped the corners of her mouth. "See, no games – now let Mama clean you up and we'll go watch the movie with the others."

"No, I've got it," he said.

She stilled his hand and said, "Handsome, this is something I can do – let me," she insisted, leaning back in and lavishing him with long licks like a cat grooming itself. "There, all better," she said. "Now, tuck it away before someone walks in."

As if to illustrate the point, the door opened and Reid walked in with an empty bowl that must have held popcorn. "Oh – uh –"

Derek pulled everything up and tucked away in record time. Penelope's cheeks were flaming bright red. Reid was stammering, stuttering, and still couldn't manage to find a coherent sentence with two hands and a flashlight. "Okay then," he finally said, retreating as Derek zipped his pants and re-did his belt.

"Well, shit – we're still technically newlyweds, right?" Derek muttered. "It's to be expected –"

"We've been married a year now," she reminded him. "Not so newly wed anymore."

"Maybe we should make more popcorn?" he suggested.

She chuckled and nodded. "At least then we have a plausible excuse for being in here."

"Screw plausible excuses – I'm tired of having to have an excuse to want to escape to a room alone with my wife," he muttered irritably. "Now, where's the box of popcorn?"


	38. Chapter 38

Holy shit, y'all – I bet you thought I'd totally abandoned this story. (Come to think of it, I was beginning to wonder myself…) But, thank god, the muse finally stopped playing dead for a few minutes so I could write this. Hopefully, I'll be able to bribe her with a few things and, ya know, keep it going till the end.

* * *

><p>Life Sucks<br>by ScintillatingTart

Part thirty-eight:

* * *

><p>November 13, 2012<p>

11:27 AM EDT

* * *

><p>"So, what are your plans for Thanksgiving?" Penelope asked as she and Emily settled in with their lunches. The cafeteria wasn't really their first choice for edible food, but the team was knee-deep in paperwork after their last case, and they couldn't really take the time to go out. A Greek salad and pita was about as good as it got – which was better than some of the other things they could have been saddled with.<p>

"I'm not sure," Emily said. "What about you guys?"

"Fran and company are coming here," Penelope said. "Dad's already paid their airfare and we'll put everyone up in the big house. You're more than welcome to come – in fact, the whole BAU is welcome, if they want. I'm not even kidding. Dad's got it in his head that we need all the traditional turkey and trimmings and a full-on Italian feast on top of it. There's no way we can all eat that much food, Em. What the hell was he thinking?"

"Hence why the entire universe is invited for Thanksgiving," Emily laughed. "But, seriously? I'm in if I'm in town."

"Why wouldn't you be in town?" Penelope asked, poking at a crouton with her fork.

"Serial killers and bad people don't take holiday vacations," Emily reminded her. "What if the whole team is off on a case?"

"Then I'll make do," Penelope replied cheerfully.

"Okay," Emily said. "What if I told you that Clyde Easter called me?"

Penelope's mood took a direct turn for the south. "You call him back and tell him hell fuck no," she snapped. "Whatever he wants, he can go fuck himself. He put us both in grave danger and –"

"We're adults," Emily reminded her. "We put ourselves in as much danger as he did. He just put the line of demise out before us – we didn't have to walk it."

Penelope glowered at her. "What does he want?" she muttered.

"He heard about our mishap a few months ago and wanted to make sure his star spies were still intact," Emily said, her mouth curling into a wry, sardonic smile. "And to offer me a job."

"I certainly hope you aren't even remotely considering taking anything that that charlatan snake in the grass offers you," Penelope scoffed. "He already burned his bridges with me – bastard. Did you know he tried to have Emma forcibly removed from my custody when she was born?"

Emily sighed and pressed the heel of her hand to her temple. "Oh, god forbid the world not be about you for one fucking minute, Garcie," she said, melodramatically sighing to drive her point home. "Seriously? He's a tool, but he made a good point."

"Which is what?"

"I'm getting soft."

Penelope's hand darted out and grabbed Emily's in a death grip. "You are no such thing," she said earnestly. "You're just a little out of practice with the death and mayhem thing. I totally get that. I wouldn't change what happened because it scared me stupid. I could've lost everything – Derek, my father, my family… you."

Emily smiled slightly. "Nice to know that you're finally doing something that makes sense," she commented.

"What do you mean?"

"You put your family first," Emily pointed out. "In that list, your husband and father and your kids came before I did – which was how it was supposed to be all along."

Penelope sighed and poked at her limp lettuce. "It still feels weird to know that you had Derek first," she said. "I feel like he's always comparing us – you were more aggressive in bed, I'm more opporotunistic…"

Emily rolled her eyes. Her dark hair fell in her face as she leaned forward and finally took a bite of her sandwich. "Look, Derek made his choice – and, deep down, I think he probably always loved you," she said around a mouthful of turkey and tomato. "And I'm totally okay with that. I don't mind. He and I would probably have killed each other after a while anyway. I leave my dirty clothes lying around and he has this thing about ironing his boxers."

Penelope giggled and almost choked on her bite. "Yes, he does, and I love him for it," she admitted. "I love everything about him, even that."

Emily's smile faded a little. "Right," she said, "which is exactly as it should be. You're married, you have a family, and you're still supposed to have that spark."

Penelope's cheeks flushed a little as she recalled 'that spark' from earlier in the morning. He'd had her desperately begging for more as they'd fucked wildly in the shower before the kids woke up. "Um, yeah," she squeaked. "That spark is alive and well."

Emily grunted and said, "Yeah, I know."

"Hey, you're spending an awful lot of time at Dad's –"

"Not lately," Emily sighed, setting down her sandwich. "Baby Girl, I feel like I'm cheating everyone right now."

"Why would you think that?" Penelope asked, frowning.

"Because I could be doing so much more than I am," Emily sighed. "You and me – we were a hell of a team. We were the good guys and sometimes the bad guys, but always a team. And now, you're worried about diapers and schools and la crosse, and I'm worried about my damn cat barfing in the hallway or whether or not your father sees me as a distraction from his own mortality. Because he's been bitching about getting old lately."

"He is old," Penelope said mildly. "He needs to think about retiring for good."

"You know he won't as well as I do," Emily said. "And I feel like I'm holding him back by the belt loops. He wants to be your father and your kids' grandfather, but I don't fit into the picture anymore."

"Like hell you don't," Penelope said in a very low, firm voice. "You're my best friend. There have been mornings where you're the only reason I get up –"

"And that's wrong now," Emily shot back. "You know that, deep down. Your family matters more than I do. Take care of them and forget me, Penelope."

"So you've already made your choice, then?" Penelope snapped.

"I hadn't till now," Emily sighed. "But you've made my mind up for me. It's not healthy to be in each other's back pockets anymore. Once upon a time, it was the key to our survival. Now, we're just getting in each other's way."

"So you're just going to run like a chicken shit?" Penelope hissed. "How is that going to do anyone any good? We've already lost so much – how can we lose you, too?"

"You will survive," Emily said.

Penelope viciously stabbed her salad. "Have you told anyone else?" she asked irritably. "Because they'll all try to talk you out of it."

"Oh, honey," Emily sighed. "If you couldn't do it, what makes you think anyone else could?" The question had a laugh sequestered in the end of it – a broken, sad sound that was the last nail in the coffin.

Penelope's lower lip wibbled. Shit, she was not about to cry - "We've been through too much," she said softly. "It's like you're running away."

"I am running away," Emily said. "I'm running away from the fact that I can't stand up anymore and be the woman everyone expects me to be. I'm not strong anymore; every day I'm with you and the kids and everyone else, I feel my edge wearing away. We're friends, we're almost like sisters, and in the end, when you were in danger, I choked. You should hate me."

Penelope shook her head and sighed. "Never. Even if you are banging my dad."

"Not anymore," Emily said, her voice very quiet. "Not for a few days. I needed to clear my head. He's mad –"

"Can you blame him?" Penelope asked.

"It was never meant to be serious," Emily sighed. "He wasn't supposed to get hurt –"

"You should've thought about that before you made your decision to leave," Penelope muttered. "You know? I'm not very hungry anymore." She pushed her tray into the center of the table and reached for her tea instead. "Where are you going, then?"

"London," Emily said. "To run the northern European division of Interpol."

"Because you don't feel challenged here?" Penelope scoffed.

"No," Emily breathed, "because being here challenges everything in my being, and I can't face it. I'm so much better at running – you know that."

Penelope sipped her tea and nodded. "Always. You run like a bat out of hell at the least little bit of provocation." It wasn't an accusation – just a statement of fact. "So you're leaving me again in a prison –"

"Oh, no, this time, the prison is of your own making," Emily said, laughing. "You're the one who fell in love and procreated."

"I wouldn't trade my kids for the world," Penelope said. "Derek… Derek can fend for himself. But Emma, Declan, and Brielle are my reason for living now."

Emily's laughter died to a chuckle. "Yeah, I know. It's okay. That's the way it should be. You've used me like a crutch for too long. So… go. Be free. Figure out what you're supposed to be doing – we're old, tainted goods, but you can still make something of yourself."

Penelope sighed and rolled her eyes. "You're so melodramatic, Sugar Tits," she said with a frown on her lips.

"Yeah, well… I learned from the queen," Emily ribbed, nudging her friend with her foot. "I suppose I have to tell Derek today… since he's the Unit Chief."

Penelope nodded, not trusting her voice to hold steady long enough to affirm.

"And telling your dad… might kill me," Emily admitted.

"Then don't do it," Penelope sighed. "Let me tell him. You just… pack and go. Before he has a chance to change your mind. He will try, you know. He will try with more vigor and intensity than I did – because he loves you, stupid."

"I don't want his money and his fame," Emily said. "I want to be able to respect myself every morning because I'm doing something for myself, okay? I'm tired of fighting an uphill battle. Since I came back, I've felt like I should have stayed dead. I don't fit anymore."

Penelope hesitated a moment, then took Emily's hand and squeezed it. "When you need me," she said softly, "I will be there, no questions asked. Whenever, wherever. Just call."

Emily's smile was full of unshed tears as she whispered, "You've already done that, Penelope Morgan. You don't need to put your life on hold for me."

"Who better to do it for?" Penelope asked. "You'll be family till the day you die, Emily Prentiss. Don't you ever think differently." Her phone buzzed and she looked at it in annoyance. "We have a briefing," she said. "But if you're going to leave, you'd better go tell Derek today and leave now. Otherwise…" She stood up and grabbed her purse and her tray with her half-eaten lunch. "Otherwise, I reserve the right to use my children to influence you into changing your mind."

Twenty-four hours later, Emily was on a jet to London.

And the world felt like it was ending for a small family called the BAU.


	39. Chapter 39

Oh, look, more stuff!

Life Sucks  
>by ScintillatingTart<p>

* * *

><p>Wednesday<br>November 21, 2012  
>9:30 PM EDT<p>

* * *

><p>"Emma Leigh Garcia, you will haul your ass to bed or I will duct tape you to it," Penelope snapped.<p>

"Don't you need help?" Emma asked, popping her gum and looking as innocent as she could. "I mean, you don't know how to cook, Mom."

"I can read and follow a recipe," Penelope sighed. "Get out of here – shoo – go to bed. Tomorrow's a big day."

Emma scowled at her and rolled her eyes. "Mom –"

"Declan's already in bed, and Brielle's been asleep for an hour. Why do you have to be contrary?"

"Where's Dad?" Emma demanded.

"He went to the store to get some things," Penelope said, adding a pinch of salt to the cranberry and sugar mixture on the stovetop. "For tomorrow, so we don't have to go back out again –"

"Are you making a turkey?" Emma asked.

"I am," Penelope sighed.

"I won't eat it."

"You and I don't have to eat it," Penelope snapped, adding a splash of cinnamon schnapps and half a bottle of ginger hard cider to the cranberries. She brushed past Emma and added some water to the pot. "Go to bed or you won't see Grandma in the morning."

"Shouldn't I stay up and help Dad put the groceries away?" Emma bargained.

Penelope all but threw the pot onto the stove. "I have never spanked you in your life, but I'm so fucking close right now, young lady," she hissed, glaring over at her daughter.

Emma's eyes widened and she took off like a shot, thundering up the stairs in a hurry.

Penelope sighed and set the burner to medium heat, then backed away to read the recipe again. Her eyes were getting worse and the idea of not being able to focus on a target without stronger glasses was upsetting her. Her conversation with Emily was coming back to haunt her – they weren't fearless twenty-somethings anymore. They were getting old, and Emily was doing something about it – while Penelope was taking the easy way out and pretending that it didn't bother her when her feet hurt at the end of the day from wearing her fantastic shoes, or when her kids ran around her in circles with energy to spare.

Not to mention she missed her best friend. She kept catching herself about to dial the phone, and having to stop herself. Emily wasn't answering calls, emails, any of it. It hurt like an open, firey wound to know that her strongest confidante had disappeared and not given two shits about how it was going to affect anyone else. It felt like the rug had been pulled out from under Penelope's feet and she'd landed on her ass and couldn't get up again. Her support, her rock, was gone, and it was a less than acceptable trade for being miserable and angry because she had no outlet for her emotions.

She put the lid on the pot and went to the next cookbook. By the time Derek got home, a huge baking pan of rolls was about to go into the oven. "Hey, they were out of –"

Penelope sighed. "Please, don't tell me they're out of –"

"Sugar," he finished, "so I had to go to a couple other places and finally ended up at Whole Foods – I had to buy like twenty pounds of sugar."

"Sounds like we'll always have a cup to lend the neighbors," she said, rolling her eyes as she set the timer. "Emma wouldn't go to bed till I threatened to tan her hide."

Derek was putting away groceries and stopped abruptly. "Have you ever spanked her?" he asked.

"Never in my life," she admitted, "but she pushed all of my buttons – "

"Baby Girl, you've been really touchy since Emily abandoned ship." His tone was soft and cautious, and she felt his retiscence toward bringing it up – he was probably sure she was going to bite his head off. "Maybe you need a break? You haven't really taken one in a while."

"I'd rather be busy," she said, leaning against the bar. "Besides… when have I had time to take a break? Between the kids and work, I've got nothing left. And I'm not complaining, mind you – I love my kids – but our job isn't exactly conductive to rest. The psychos don't have office hours."

He came over and invaded her space, leaning against the counter right beside her, his hand covering hers around the edge of the marble. "Maybe we should take a vacation – get away and breathe fresh air for a few days," he suggested. "Just the two of us."

She didn't know how to make him see that her world was upside down. She wanted to defy everything and walk away – and find herself again. She'd lost the person she'd been and didn't know where to find her again. She didn't want to leave him; she loved him too strongly, too deeply, to give up on them. She didn't want to abandon her children; they needed her more than they knew. But she needed to reunite the pieces of herself again.

She was tired of hunting outside herself for answers, and she was tired of looking inside and finding herself lacking in all the ways she knew to be voices steeped in fear.

"I'd like that," Penelope murmured. "Maybe after Christmas?"

"How about this weekend?" he asked, reaching into his pocket and handing her a small envelope. "Three days in Miami? Sun, beach… your sexy ass in a little tiny two-piece…"

She laughed. "You had this planned, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Your dad and my mom are going to watch the kids."

"No sexy little two-piece," she said firmly. "I don't have the body for that."

"Mmmm, I beg to differ," he growled, squeezing her hand and moving his hand so he could pull her hair back from her neck. The next thing she knew, he was kissing those spots she loved, and she was shivering with desire. "You have just the body for that – my favorite beach body," he whispered against her skin.

"Hey, stop it," she giggled breathlessly. "I'm trying to cook – you don't want burnt rolls, do you?"

"Mmm, no," he agreed, "that would be bad." He glanced over at the oven and smirked. "We have ten minutes…"

"Oh, Hot Stuff, it's not that I'm not tempted, but I'm so worried that I've already done something to destroy the food," she confessed. "Maybe once the food's out of the oven and put away for tomorrow –"

He glared at her mock-sternly. "Are you sure you're not just trying to push me away, Mrs. Morgan?"

"Oh, no, I'm really scared shitless that the bread is going to be awful," she said, her voice low. "So we have to try it before we put it away."

He shook his head and rolled his eyes before he gave her a quick, chaste kiss. "I'm sure the bread is fine, Baby," he said. "I'm going to have a beer and go to bed –"

"Here, have some cider," Penelope said, grabbing it off the counter. "It's half full from the cranberry sauce recipe."

"Who puts cider in their cranberry sauce?"

"JJ's mom," Penelope replied.

"Oh," he said. "I didn't know – that's a good recipe."

She nodded. "I just hope I didn't screw it up," she sighed. "I really need to learn how to cook properly. Maybe Dad can help hook me up with some lessons from, I don't know, Anne Burrell or somebody."

Derek laughed. "Oh, Penelope, don't ever change a hair on your silly head," he murmured, giving her a deep, lingering kiss. "When you're ready to come to bed, I'll put away the paperwork and we can play a while."

"How's your knee?" she asked softly.

"The weather's getting to me a little, but I'm fine," he assured her.

"It's supposed to snow tomorrow," she reminded him with a little smile. "My back has been sore."

"You need me to kiss it and make it better?" he teased, nudging her with his hip.

"Mmm, please?" she breathed.

"As soon as you've proven that your rolls aren't a total disaster, I will make sure your back gets some TLC, Baby Girl," he promised, voice low as he came closer into her space – she could feel the warmth of his breath against her face, tickling the little hairs on her skin, the sensation sending a chill down her spine to settle heat in her pelvis. "I love you."

She exhaled the breath she'd been holding in a deep, racking shudder. "I love you, too," was all she could manage to say.

"And we're on a plane Friday morning," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "So pack light – swimsuit, and sexy little things I can have fun taking off you…"

She laughed breathlessly, accepting another kiss. She nibbled on his lower lip, drawing him back in. "Promises promises," she breathed, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and deepening the kiss.

The buzzer went off, insistent. She moaned and broke their kisses to check on the food. She pulled out a tray of rolls – perfectly browned and excellent looking. She breathed a sigh of relief and felt Derek's arms around her waist as she pulled one of the piping hot rolls apart and stuffed a piece into his waiting mouth.

"Shit, it's hot!" he cried around a mouthful of bread.

"Yes, but is it good?" she asked, laughing.

"I'll tell you when I grow tastebuds again – Baby Girl, you burnt the hell out of my mouth just now," he groaned. "But it tastes fine."

"Oh, thank god," she exhaled. "I'm going to cheat and use pre-made dough for the pies tomorrow."

"Speaking of tomorrow… I invited Blake and her husband. And Seaver."

Penelope sighed. "Why did you have to go and do that? Are you just shoving them in my face to prove that Emily isn't coming back?" Her playful sexiness was gone in an instant, replaced with the same old hurt as before. "Because it sucks. I want Emily back – I don't want these… people."

"Penelope, play nice," Derek growled, squeezing her. "Your dad agreed that we should invite them to the party since we're hosting everyone. So I did, and they'll be here. Get used to it."

"I don't like Blake," she pouted.

"You don't like change," Derek said.

"No, I don't like Alex Blake – Hotch and Reid are all up her ass and sucking up and telling everyone how wonderful she is and I don't like it. I hate bullshit."

Derek smirked. "You're jealous."

"So what if I am?" she snapped back. "Doesn't change the fact that I shouldn't have to share my family holiday with them."

"Are you jealous of their abilities or…"

Penelope's scowl deepened. "You're treading a dangerous line right now, Hot Stuff," she warned.

"I worked with Seaver before," he reminded her.

"You mean you slept with her," she shot back before she could stop herself.

He sighed. "Baby, it wasn't like tha-"

"The one time you cheated on Emily," she reminded him. "She called me for answers and I couldn't give her any – but seeing you with that little twit right now is like a slap in my fucking FACE. I am your WIFE."

"And I wouldn't chea-"

"You took up with Emily again to make me regret you," she hissed. "Are you forgetting that? You're not an angel, Derek Morgan, and neither am I. Ashley Seaver comes onto you one time and she's going to learn the hard way that I'm not as cute and innocent as I look." The threat was low and furious. "Have it your way – they can come to dinner. But if I catch her anywhere near you, I will 'accidentally' cut one of her fingers off."

"Penelope, you are more woman than I can handle," he pointed out with a laugh. "You think I'm really going to go back to preferring little wannabes? I've got you."

"Emily isn't a wannabe."

"She ain't you, honey," Derek whispered, letting his hands wander. She felt his fingers slide up between her legs and she resisted the urge to arch her back like a cat as he stroked her through her panties. "You're my three meals a day – and snacks. And dessert."

The cranberries had been boiling a while, so she turned off the heat and turned in his arms. "You say the silliest things," she growled. "But I'm still mad –"

"Then I'll just have to work on making you not angry," he teased, teasing her again.

This time, the pressure and pleasure was like a shock to her system, and she moved her hips, rubbing back and forth against his fingertips. "You're so…" she began, but her breath hitched in her throat. He merely laughed and kissed her protests away.

It didn't take much before he was pushing her panties aside and teasing her for real with those dastardly fingertips that made her weak in the knees. He swallowed her cries, smothering them into tiny noises that made their elicit moments that much hotter. She rocked against his hand, taking his fingers as deep as she could, biting back a shriek deep in the back of her throat.

He knew just how to end an argument – she had to hand that much to him, pun completely unintended.

When she bit his tongue and convulsed like she might have a seizure, he just held her steady against the cabinets and let her ride the wave. "Oh, you don't play fair," she panted.

"Mmm, why would I when I can have you at my mercy?" he asked, winking as he licked his fingers.

The action made her heat right back up. "Help me put the food away, and then I'm going to show you how to play mercy," she snarked, hiding a smile as he raised an eyebrow in amused surprise. "And you'll be the one begging at the end," she promised. "Better find your handcuffs, stud. They might come in handy."


	40. Chapter 40

Part forty:

* * *

><p>November 22, 2012<br>12:00 PM EDT

* * *

><p>Penelope sat down and stared down the timer on the oven. Five more minutes and she could butter the pie crust and add some sugar to it – and bake it for another 10 minutes… and that would be the last of her traumatic experiences in the kitchen.<p>

The going to the ER at 6am for having cut her finger pretty badly while slicing apples had put a kink into things – they were supposed to be over at Rossi's already, eating a good home-cooked feast. Not waiting for her to finish baking the pies and such. Luckily, JJ and Will had been able to come over early and get the turkey and side dishes going over at the mansion.

Not to mention her father had his own "Italian celebration" food plans. If nothing else, they would have enough food left to feed an army for a few days.

Derek's cane made a clacking sound on the tile as he came into the kitchen with Brielle on his hip. "Little Miss needs a snack," he said, dropping the baby into her high chair and strapping her in. "Cheerios good?"

"Oh, yeah," Penelope said, gesturing with her heavily-bandaged finger. "They're in the cupboard behind the flour."

"You okay?" he asked as he dished up a handful of cereal for Brielle. The little girl squealed and started playing with her snack, smacking her lips and making nomming noises as she did.

"Mmmhmm, just waiting for the last pie," Penelope said with a sigh. "I hate waiting. I want to be over at Dad's, having fun already. Today's already been awful. I want it to be better." She pouted at him and he came over and gave her a kiss. "Thanks."

"How's your finger?" he asked.

"Stings," she replied, "much like my impatience."

He chuckled and kissed her again. "Maybe you'll be more careful with the knives from now on?"

"Definitely," she agreed. "Is it snowing yet?"

"Not yet, but the sky's looking pretty ominous," he said with a grin. "Good thing we're not far from home if the weather gets shitty."

"Sitty!" Brielle squealed, giggling as she grinned and put some mushy half-Cheerios in her hair.

"Hey, now," Derek said, turning and looking at her, "don't you start."

The baby giggled again and made a few more lip-smacks before she shrieked, "Fuuuuuck!"

Derek raised an eyebrow and looked at his wife, who at least had the decency to blush. "Well, at least it was in context?" Penelope said hesitantly.

"I should wash both your mouths out," he said, sighing and shaking his head.

"Fuck da?" Brielle said with a giggle.

Derek sighed. "What am I going to do with the two of you?" he asked.

"Love us?" Penelope asked as the timer went off. She pulled the pie from the oven and buttered the crust, then sprinkled some raw sugar onto it. Once she put it back into the oven and set the timer again, she was unsurprised to feel Derek's arms come around her waist. "Hey, now – not in front of the impressionable baby," she teased as he nuzzled her neck and made a low groaning noise.

"After everything else you've been teaching her, a little bit of love won't scar her for life," Derek scolded, smacking his wife on the ass. She moaned and backed against him, but he grabbed her hand and kissed her bandaged finger instead.

"Owweh!" Brielle announced loudly.

"Yeah, Mommy has an owwie," Derek agreed with a smirk. "Daddy's going to kiss it and make it all better, princess."

Penelope exhaled shakily. "You're playing with fire," she murmured.

"Oh hush," he teased, kissing her neck, then her shoulder, and his hand roamed down her torso. "I just want you to be thankful –"

"Believe me, I'm thankful," she whimpered. "I'm thankful I'm getting some tonight – but you better… you better keep your hands to yourself, buster."

"Or what?" he asked, voice low and sexy in her ear.

"Or there's going to be trouble –"

"I like trouble, Mama," he teased, nibbling on her earlobe. "I like you, don't I? And you're serious trouble."

She moaned and swatted his hands away. "Asshole, I'm trying to cook and you're –"

"Distracting you," he replied as the timer went off. "Ten minutes wasn't so awful, was it?"

She slugged him in the gut and put on the hot mitts so she could retrieve the pie. "You gonna clean the baby up so we can go to dad's?" she asked.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Woman, do not make me –"

"Please?" she asked, getting him a wet wipe and batting her eyelashes sweetly at him.

He rolled his eyes and scooped Brielle out of her high chair and gave her a big, sloppy kiss. "Let's go put you in some clean clothes, little miss – and then we're going to go see Nana and Granddad."

"Dadad?" Brielle echoed cheerfully. "YAY!"

Penelope laughed and went around the kitchen trying to gather the rest of the things to take to the big house. By the time Derek came back, she had everything mostly ready – except for herself. She was still in grungy cooking clothes. But her daughter and husband looked so damn adorable – Derek in his cashmere sweater and sexy low-slung jeans, and their baby in a cute but still functional dress and leggings with her little Ugg boots and frilly socks. "Did Daddy pick that out or did Brielle do that?" Penelope asked with a smile.

"Shut up," Derek said, looking sheepish.

"You two look fantastic," Penelope said wistfully. "Too bad she's going to end up covered in mashed potatoes and lasagna – and you're going to get that sweater ripped off before we even leave the house."

His eyebrows rose. "'Scuse me?"

"I'm just going to go get changed," she said quickly, dashing past him before she could make good on her promise. It took a few minutes but she ended up in a fairly tame outfit – skirt, leggings, boots, and an oversized sweater that she might have stolen from Derek's side of the closet. Because it smelled like him and was god-awfully ugly… like the aunt that gave it to him last Christmas. She loved it, though, and if nothing else, they could kick off the ugly sweater contest today!

She was about to head back downstairs when she heard, "Oh hell no, you are not wearing that."

Penelope raised a brow. "And what army is going to stop me?" she replied.

"Woman, if I have to strip that monstrosity off you myself and set fire to it, I will," Derek said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And where, exactly, is our darling daughter?" she inquired.

"In her room, in the playpen with her books," he replied. "And you are not wearing my sweater. Put some real clothes on."

She pouted. "But you love it when I wear your clothes –"

"Not that thing," he growled, coming over and yanking it off over her head, leaving her standing there in nothing but her bra. "Damn it, Penelope –"

"Hey, you're the one that's running around, yanking my clothes of-" Her protest was swallowed by a deep, hungry kiss that turned into a dark moan when his hands started roaming. "Fuck, Derek – you can't just – you can't ju- yank my – clothes – mmm… off."

"We have to go to your dad's –"

"Stop it, then!" she gasped when he pushed her up against the wall and pinned her arms to the wall. "We're never going to make it over there if you don't – DEREK – behave!" His free hand had already made short work of her front-hooking bra clasp and now she was just getting pissed. How dare he just –

Brielle shouted gleefully from the other room and Derek paused, his forehead pressed against hers, his free hand not exactly free as it was working its way past her waistband. He was breathing hard with the effort of staying restrained, but when no sounds of baby upset came down the corridor, he growled and released Penelope so he could continue his assault with both hands.

She helped him tug off her leggings and skirt, then decided it was time she got bossier than he was being. She slapped his hands away from her panties and grabbed him by the belt buckle, dragging him to the bed. "You need to learn patience," she growled, quickly divesting him of his clothes.

"Says the woman who almost cut off her finger," he replied, tackling her to the bed and kissing her in that slow, deep, languishing way that left her giddily weak in the knees and wet for him. "Do you realize how hot you are, Mrs. Morgan?" Derek growled, his lips lingering over her skin, breathing hot, steamy kisses all the way down her belly to – she moaned and grabbed his shoulders, trying not to cry out as his lips found home.

"Fuck," she gasped, her hips rising to meet his mouth. He already had her hovering on the edge – and another noise from the baby's room made him stop. "FUCK," she protested.

"Who exactly needs to learn patience here?" he challenged.

"She's fine," Penelope sighed. "You don't have to stop just because she's happy –"

He glared down at her, then the harsh look softened and he came back up to kiss her. "You're right, but I hate that you're right –"

"I've done this mothering thing a couple of times," she teased, moaning and melting into his embrace, his kiss, his everything. He kept tempting her, each kiss, each touch, getting her hotter and hotter till she was ready to go off like a bottle rocket. "Damn it," she begged, rubbing against him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her. "Derek," she whined.

"Patience is a virtue –"

"Fuck virtue!" she shouted, grabbing him by the cock and giving him cherry-picked directions right where and how she wanted him. He laughed and thrust into her – and that was enough to set her off. Her orgasm was explosive but it didn't stop there; he built her up again, didn't let her down. They moved together, all lips and sweat and tangled, desperate fucking until they came down completely from their high. "Maybe I should wear that sweater more often," she panted even as he still twitched inside her.

"Don't even," he growled, nestling his head between her breasts and closing his eyes. "That thing is going in the fucking trash."

"Mmm," she replied in non-commitment.

"That was –"

"Mmmhmm," she agreed, whimpering a little. He crawled back up her body to place a sweet kiss on her lips. "We should have spontaneous fucking more often –"

"We need to make time for us," he said softly, rolling them onto their sides and beginning to build her up again. The bastard got her every time –

She was just recovering from her fourth misbegotten orgasm when the phone started ringing off the hook. Derek grabbed it and had a quick, terse conversation with one of their parents, then hung up with a sigh. "Our presence has been ordered," he said in a teasing tone. "But Mom promised to baby-sit tonight."

"But JJ and I were going to go out shopping tonight," Penelope whined.

"Woman, sex or shopping – don't be crazy," Derek growled.

She paused. "Well, there is Cyber Monday –"

He rolled his eyes. "Sweetheart, nothing is worth –"

"I was going to get you a new tv," she said with a pout, getting up and retrieving clean underwear and a fresh bra. She slithered into a nice, plain dress and warm legwear, watching him like a hawk as he got back into the outfit that was going to have her wanting to drag him off to one of her father's spare rooms for a quickie. "You need new shoes, too –"

"Woman, I will buy my own shoes," Derek said firmly.

"What are we getting the kids for Christmas?" she asked.

"Can we talk about this tomorrow?" he asked. "Because I really, really just want to have my wicked way with you again and our parents will kill us if we don't get over there in a hurry."

Penelope smirked at him and twitched her hip saucily. "Nice to know that you're feeling randy," she purred. "Good thing we can't have more kids or I'd be barefoot and knocked up all the time."

"And that would be a bad thing how?" he asked with that cheeky, lop-sided grin that made her stomach do dizzy flips. "If I could have a dozen kids with you, I would, Baby Girl –"

"Three is plenty," she teased, blowing him a kiss and running to the other room where Brielle was just starting to get pouty. The baby bit back her sniffles and held out her arms to her mother, who picked her up and cuddled her. "Aww, that's better," Penelope cooed. "Wanna go see Granddad and Nana, princess? You can play with the doggies – and eat lots of nummy things."

"Num," the baby agreed, yawning a little and chewing on her finger as she leaned into Penelope's arms sleepily.

"Uh-oh, naptime," Penelope said with a smile as Derek came into the room. He grabbed an afghan from the crib and helped her wrap the baby up so they didn't have to get a coat for the short walk to the mansion. "Can you carry the food by yourself?"

"I will," he said, giving her a kiss. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, I know," she murmured.

"Because it doesn't feel like I say it enough –"

"Hot Stuff, you say it at the right time," Penelope said softly, smiling and kissing him back. "That means more than hearing it all the time. And I love you, too."

"Ofe mama daaaah," Brielle cooed sleepily.

"We love you, too, princess," Derek said softly, kissing his daughter's chubby cheek.

They heard the front door slam. "I thought I said you had ten minutes to get to the house or we were going to send a search party," Fran yelled up the stairs.

"Coming, coming, we're coming," Penelope called back, laughing a little at the interruption.


	41. Chapter 41

Part forty-one:

* * *

><p>November 22, 2012<br>1:40 PM EDT

* * *

><p>"Can we go eat in the living room, Mom?" Declan asked. "Grandpa said we can play video games – and you guys are kind of boring, no offense."<p>

Blake smiled a little and winked at Hotch. "Well, at least he's honest – we are boring," she agreed.

"Please, Dad?" Jack echoed. "Uncle Dave got a new game, too –"

"Uh, no, you're not going to play that," Rossi spoke up. "But there's still Mario Kart and Super Mario Brothers for you guys."

Emma grabbed her plate and glass and was in the other room faster than her mother could nod her agreement. "Well, so much for a family meal," Fran commented dryly.

"They're just kids," Seaver spoke up as the boys took off with Henry on their heels. "Sitting at the big people table was probably just too much torture."

"Ah, and now we can drink," JJ said, raising her glass of wine, "without feeling like jerks."

Brielle wrinkled her nose and squeezed a fistful of mashed sweet potatoes through her fingers. She squealed in delight and grabbed a handful of spaghetti in the other hand.

Penelope glared at Derek and said, "I told you so."

"She's gorgeous," Seaver said. "How old is she?"

Derek went to speak up, but Penelope's sulky glare was enough to silence him. "She's a little over one," Penelope said sullenly.

"Yes, she is," Reid agreed cheerfully. "And she's such a sweet little girl, aren't you, Breezy?" Brielle beamed at him and waved her hands of food with a shrill shriek.

Penelope grabbed her martini glass and drained it dry in record time, then reached for the manicotti. "So, about the shopping we were going to do, JJ –"

"Oh, I know you guys have to be at the airport at like five," JJ said dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'll grab any good deals on the stuff you want if you make me a list and I'll get Old Moneybags here to cut me a check." She gestured in Rossi's direction.

"Where are you going, if I might ask?" Blake asked.

"Miami," Penelope said. "Dad, where do you have the wet wipes?" she asked as Brielle dumped a handful of food into her mother's lap.

"I'll go get them," Rossi said.

"Can you make me another martini while you're up?" Penelope asked.

Derek shook his head at Dave. "Haven't you already had enough?" he inquired.

She sighed and proceeded to push food around her plate. This was not her element – being social with people she didn't trust. Will was late to the party because he'd had to make another booze run – because for some unfathomable reason, Rossi was out of rum.

Hotch cleared his throat. "How's that upgrade for the system coming, Penelope?" he asked.

"Fine," she said.

Derek nudged her. "What's up with you?"

She wiped food off her clothes when Rossi returned and she got up. "Nothing, dear," Penelope said shortly.

"I'm beginning to think we weren't exactly wanted," Blake said mildly, sipping her whiskey.

"No, it's not like that at all," Fran assured her.

Penelope snorted slightly then went to the kitchen. Yeah, it was supposed to be Emily helping hold court as hostess – not the gimpy daughter with too damn many kids and not enough patience…

Seaver cleared her throat and Penelope turned and glared at her. "So, I thought I'd –"

"You'd interfere more?" Penelope asked. "Because sleeping with Derek wasn't enough? You think I don't know you hit on him when you rejoined the unit?"

"He turned me down flat," Seaver replied.

"I should fucking hope so," Penelope hissed.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know he was married."

"Like you didn't know he was seeing Emily when you fucked him before?" Penelope asked caustically, looking for the bottle of Advil. Her hand was throbbing – and her head was going to start doing the same soon.

"Okay, same drama different day, then," Seaver said, holding up her hands in surrender. "I hit on him, he turned me down. Seems he's pretty happy with you. Who knew?"

"I may not be skinny and… whatever…" Penelope grunted, slamming back a couple of pills. "But you better believe I'm not going down without a fight. You want him, you're going to have to take me out first."

"Whoa, back up that truck," Seaver said. "I already told you: I hit on him, he turned me down. I'm not going to do anything to piss you off, Penelope – the stories about you are pretty epic. I'm not down with getting gutted with a shoe."

"He's my husband –"

"And you guys are going to Miami for a romantic weekend – he hasn't been able to shut the fuck up about it," Seaver said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "So I told him about this little boutique hotel that I've stayed at a couple of times. You should like it: it's vintage."

Penelope hesitated a moment, then said, "Thank you –"

"Look, I don't want a piece of your relationship, okay? Morgan and I had a fling once and it's over now," Seaver said. "I want to try to be… maybe… friends. You're the only person I don't get along with, and now I know why."

"Because you asked my husband if he wanted a repeat performance – and do you know he came home and told me that right before we had fantastic sex?" Penelope asked. "Because he was feeling guilty and I was feeling insecure that he'd think twice about coming home to me and our kids. So – no. I don't want to be friends, Agent Seaver. I don't want to think about you touching him."

"Oh, but it was okay for Prentiss to have him? I thought she was your best friend?" Seaver challenged.

Penelope's good hand clenched into a fist. It took all the control she had not to smash it into Seaver's smug bitch face. "Shut the fuck up," she hissed. "You don't know anything about me or my family, you stupid little whore –"

"Enough," Blake said, stepping between them. "Seaver, I'm going to put you in for reassignment –"

"Whoa, because this bitch thinks she owns the BAU?" Seaver asked. "She's got Rossi and Morgan wrapped around her fingers and I'm just supposed to sit back and let her take a free ride? She isn't worth the shit she's stepping on –"

Blake held Penelope back through sheer force. "I said enough," she hissed. "Are you going to let her get to you like that, Penelope? She just wants to piss you off and get you to do something stupid. Enough."

Penelope turned her irritation full onto Blake. "And who died and made you god?" she snapped. "Who the hell are you to tell me that I should stop? In my own home –"

"It's your father's house," Blake said firmly, "and you're being incredibly disrespectful."

"What the hell is going on in here?" Rossi demanded from the doorway. He looked between the three women, then said, "Penelope? I asked a question."

She huffed and said, "I was getting Advil."

"Okay, and… that means you can call Ashley a whore?" he asked. "Because that was really loud. Probably louder than you intended it to be."

Penelope blinked. "Dad, I –"

"Seaver, you might want to get your things and leave," Rossi said.

"Oh, no, I'm staying for the floor show," Seaver said snidely. "I'd like to see what the Unit Chief sees in _her_ – because I'm pretty turned off right now."

Penelope yanked her wrist from Blake's hold and smashed her fist straight into Seaver's face. She was smugly satisfied when she felt something crunch – and prayed it wasn't more of her bones. "You little shit –"

"Penelope!" Derek yelped. "What the HELL?"

"She hit me!" Seaver yelped.

"Yeah, I saw that," Derek replied dryly. "Baby Girl –"

"Get her the fuck out of my sight or I swear to god, I'm going to –" Penelope snarled. Seaver saw the look on her face and took off out of the room quicker than she'd come in.

"Stop," Blake said softly, grabbing Penelope's arm and leading her in long, pacing steps around the room. "Walk it off. It's okay – you have every right to be pissed at her. I almost hit her myself."

"What exactly happened?"

Emma bounded into the room with her cup and stopped short. "Mama, why are you bleeding?" she asked.

"Because she hit someone," Derek said. "This is why you don't hit people."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Mama, I thought we agreed you should work on your temper," she sighed dramatically as she opened the fridge and got a glass of milk.

"God, kid, you're just like your mother," Rossi sighed. "That's not a compliment, by the way –"

Penelope stopped pacing and looked over at Derek. "Seaver is out," she said firmly. "The unit will be better without her –"

"I was thinking," Derek said cautiously, "that you might want to transfer to unit administration alongside Hotch."

She stared at him, then took a deep breath and said, "Why, so you can fuck her?"

"No," he said firmly. "How can you even think that, Penelope?"

"I think this is our cue to retreat," Rossi said.

"Oh, no, I want to see this," Blake said.

"No, trust me, you don't," Rossi said, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her out of the kitchen.

"How can you possibly think that I want someone else?" Derek asked. "After what we did before we came over here –"

She shrugged. "Sex is sex," she muttered. "Love is something else entirely. We fuck a lot and –"

"And I love you," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"Sloppy seconds," she snapped.

"Enough with that already," he growled. "I was off my head when I said that –"

"I don't care," she hissed. "We can't just be about sex, Derek- you need to fucking trust me. She's bad news."

"She was a part of the unit before and –"

"And she was bad news then, wasn't she?" Penelope challenged. "What was so good about her, Morgan? Did her little tits fit in your hand? Was she perky and blonde and –"

"She was willing," Derek said. "That was it – she was willing and Emily wasn't."

"Because she was looking over her fucking shoulder for Ian Doyle!" Penelope almost shouted. "Oh my god – how the – what the fuck is it like in your mind? What's going to happen one day when I'm suddenly not willing to be your little fuck doll because I have something worse going through my head? Are you going to go back to her? Are you going to fuck her against a wall like you fuck me because you really don't give a shit who you're fucking as long as she's willing and has a tight pussy?"

"I don't want to fight with you," he said firmly.

"Then answer the fucking question."

"You are my wife."

"That's not an answer. That's an excuse."

"Penelope!"

"Answer me, Derek Morgan."

"I don't want anyone else," he growled. "Why the hell would you think I –"

"Because I'm not worthy of you," she said simply, her voice suddenly cracking and breaking. "I never was. Maybe I was just fooling myself, thinking that we'd make it –"

"Baby Girl, stop," he whispered, reaching out and cupping her face in his hands. "Stop. Listen to me. You are the only woman I've ever really loved. I am not walking away from you. I am not sleeping with someone else just because you don't want to fuck me – okay? If there's anyone not worthy in this relationship, it's me. I'm not worthy of your love, Penelope. I was a player and a tool, and I'm trying to be better for you and our kids –"

She inhaled sharply and he pulled her close, pressing their foreheads together.

"Yes," he said softly, earnestly, "our kids. They aren't just yours, Baby. They're mine, too. I'm sorry – I didn't mean to upset you…"

"Why do you want me to go to admin?" she asked, feeling wounded still.

"It's just for a while," Derek said with a sigh. "I was going to tell you after the holiday – while we were on vacation. Hotch's assistant is going out on maternity leave next week and he needs someone with mad skills to take her place –"

"And you thought of me?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Should I be flattered or pissed?"

"Pissed," he said with a sigh.

"Okay, well, at least you called that one right –"

Derek sighed and said, "Like I said, it's just temporary."

"And when I come back, Seaver will be gone," Penelope said firmly.

"I think Blake's going to go over my head and make that happen anyway," Derek said. "Not that I can blame her – Seaver's been a shit since I told her I wasn't going to sleep with her again. We need to be able to set aside our petty differences because people's lives depend on –"

She leaned in and kissed him gently. "Shh," she whispered. "I'll go work in admin. Because you asked nicely."

"Okay," he said.

"But, she needs to go," she said firmly.

"Tell me about it," he sighed.

She kissed him again and murmured, "I'm sorry I –"

"Stop apologizing," he said softly. "I didn't do a very good job of setting your mind at ease. I didn't realize you thought I'd just… up and cheat on you like that."

"Well, you did Emily –"

"Emily and I were never really in that much love," he said with a sigh. "Were we?"

"I thought you were," she whispered. "For the longest time, I thought –"

"Me, too," he agreed. "But then I met the most beautiful, intelligent, sexy woman – and I was lost."

"Stop saying sweet things," she sighed.

"Are you two done fighting?" JJ asked from the doorway. "Because the food is getting cold out here. And, yes, Seaver is gone. She ran like hell as soon as she got zero sympathy from Hotch and me."

"Are we done fighting?" Derek asked, looking down at Penelope. He pulled her close for a hug.

"I'm done," Penelope whispered, burying her face against his chest, breathing deeply.

"Good girl," Derek murmured. "Now, come on – you need to try Blake's noodle thing. Her husband got the recipe in Thailand… he works with Doctors Without Borders, which is why he's not here. He's in Cambodia."

"He is?" Penelope asked, pulling back and exhaling the last of her upset. "I didn't know – I didn't know she was married."

"You, my dear, didn't try very hard to get to know her before you condemned her," Derek pointed out. "She helped JJ cook things today. And she was instrumental in trying to figure out how to make the team work without Prentiss."

"We made it work without her before," Penelope said quietly.

"Yeah, but this time was different, wasn't it?" he asked gently.

Penelope sniffled a little. "I want her back –"

"We all do," Derek agreed. "But she's made her choice and that's that."

She exhaled shakily and whispered, "I've never been without her – not really. Except when she was 'dead'."

"I know, Baby Girl," he murmured, kissing away the single tear that rolled down her cheek. "It's going to be okay. You've got us now. You've got me."

She looked at him for a long moment, then smiled and leaned into his embrace. "You're a puppy dog," she whispered.

"Only where you're concerned," he said. "Now let's get in there and eat – no more booze for you till you've eaten something."

She chuckled a little, then said, "I love your stupid face."

"Good," he replied, "because you're going to see this stupid face a damn long time, young lady."


	42. Chapter 42

Part forty-two:

* * *

><p>November 23, 2012<br>10:30 AM EDT

* * *

><p>"Want some of mine?" Derek asked, watching Penelope pack away her breakfast like she hadn't eaten her weight in food the day before.<p>

"No, I'm fine," she replied, chuckling a little. "It's just really damn good –"

"Okay," he replied with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Of course, she was eating her feelings, but he didn't need to know that. They were planning on taking a walk on the beach after breakfast, then they were going back to the hotel. Because of reasons that made her blush and feel warm and tingly just thinking about them.

This weekend was about taking time for them, rebuilding trust and love that had been crumbling – why else would she have felt threatened by Seaver and her twit-like moves? Penelope felt slightly off-put by the fact that Derek hadn't once tried to hold her hand on their walk from the hotel – but quickly chalked it up to him leaning heavier on his cane than he usually did, so he was struggling. She didn't need to be needy on top of it.

So she was plugging away on a bowl of shrimp and grits like her life depended on it.

"You wanna go shopping while we're down here?" he asked. "For the kids, I mean –"

"No, but we do need to talk about Christmas presents and a tree and all the crazy things we didn't worry about last year, because we were at your Mom's," she reminded him. "So –"

"I'm pretty sure your dad will have that handled by the time we get home," Derek said. "And if not, my mom will."

Penelope stifled a laugh. "Yeah, they are a little gung-ho for the holidays, aren't they?" she commented dryly.

"It helps keep the kids entertained," he replied with a smirk. "Don't you remember all the fun of planning for Christmas?"

Penelope paused for a moment, then sighed. "We didn't exactly have the same Christmas experiences," she said quietly.

"Are your brothers coming out?" Derek asked.

She shrugged. "We haven't talked about it, but I wouldn't be opposed to the idea," she said quietly.

"What about Emily?" he asked.

She looked up, suddenly hurt. "Low blow," she whispered.

"She seems to be the trouble in the center of a lot of things," he said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "If I could drag her back, I would."

Penelope pushed her empty bowl away. "Yeah, me, too," she agreed. "But she's a big girl and she has to make her own choices, right?"

Derek kissed her hand and pulled away to get his wallet to pay the check. Once the waitress had disappeared with his credit card, he said, "Wanna skip the walk and just go back to the hotel?"

"Is your knee bothering you?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"A little," was all he would admit to.

"Then we'll go back," she promised softly. "We'll find something on tv and just relax – no kids to listen out for, no impending disasters on the work front… no nosy parents."

He chuckled and leaned over the table to kiss her cheek. "Mmhmm," he murmured. "Something like that." He paused, then said, "You do realize we have a jacuzzi tub in the room, right?"

She felt heat rising into her cheeks, remembering their last weekend escape – and all the fun they'd had in a jacuzzi. The look on his face was enough to make her blush even more – hell, their waitress was practically blushing as she set the card and payment slips on the table as quickly as she could. "Wow," was all Penelope could manage to say. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Go from zero to seduction in two seconds flat?" she breathed as he signed the papers.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you complaining?"

"No – I just need lessons –"

"Penelope," he said, "you do not need lessons in seduction. Trust me. I'm surprised I don't have to give more assholes the beat-down for making eyes at my wife."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she sighed. "My love life has been sparse… till you."

"Believe me, men want you and their partners want to be you," he said softly, his voice rough as he stood up and fumbled with his cane. "You're pretty much walking sex, Baby Girl."

She scoffed at that. What a load of shit – she wasn't anything more than a mom out in a sundress and heels with her drop-dead sexy husband. She was positively dumpy next to him. He looked like he belonged here, in this semi-tropical land where walking around topless seemed to be normal. She was afraid to even take off her cover-up.

"Don't even argue with me," he said, putting his arm around her waist and smiling. "Did I tell you that you look beautiful this morning?"

"No –"

"If I ever forget to tell you that, feel free to smack me," he said softly, propelling them toward the restaurant doors. "Because it's the truth. And I should say it more than I do."

"I'm not," she said with a sigh.

"Bullshit," he replied. Their pace back to the hotel was slow, labored – his knee was bothering him more than he was willing to let on to her. They both had their quiet little secrets…

Once in their hotel room, Derek released her and hobbled to the bed, where the flopped unceremoniously onto the duvet and closed his eyes. Penelope immediately fumbled with her purse, looking for his pain pills. "You just lie still a while," she said gently. "It's because you overdid things walking through the airports."

He grunted and sighed. "This bullshit is getting old –"

"Baby Boy, shut up and let me take care of you," Penelope snapped. "It happens. You're doing better than they thought you would, remember? Just take it one day at a time and stop trying to kick in doors."

He sighed and scowled, looking adorably sexy the whole while. "We're supposed to be out on the beach, frolicking – and instead, here we are in the hotel, whining about getting old."

She leaned over and kissed him soundly. "Silly boy, I love your stupid face," she whispered. "Even if you do have grey hairs in your goatee."

He suddenly smiled. "You do realize that everyone thinks we're going to spend the entire trip in bed, right?" he teased.

"Mmmm, sounds good to me," she said, giggling a little when he grabbed her and hauled her onto the bed with him.

"Me, too," he said. "Who needs sand in their shorts?"

She smiled and looked down at him. "Just so you know, we'd get arrested if we were out on the beach frolicking," she teased. "Someone would report us for being indecent."

"We are indecent," he replied with a smirk, grabbing her ass and grinding her against him.

"You are incorrigible," she hissed, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Only on days that end in 'y'," he teased between kisses.

It didn't take long to bank the fires back into a blaze that burned brightly between them. If there was anything that their relationship wasn't short on, it was fantastically hot sex. His touch did things to her that no one else had ever managed. Her heart beat faster, forcing a hot flush onto her cheeks and breasts even as she fought to keep herself under some modicum of control. She didn't like that he knew just what buttons to push to make her want nothing more than to come hither like a wanton slut, begging for more, more, just a little more –

He broke their kisses and smiled up at her. "Now, this is my kind of vacation," Derek teased. "A little mini-honeymoon…"

"Just the two of us," she murmured.

"Reconnecting…"

She stifled a giggle. "Connecting, reconnecting, trying a new connection –"

"Woman," he scolded, but smiled anyway despite the harsh tone in his voice.

"Hmm?" she breathed, leaning in for another kiss. "Do you have a complaint, Hot Stuff?"

"Nope," he replied, groaning and trying to pull her closer – though they were already flush against each other. "Damn, you feel so good –"

She laughed and whispered, "Yeah, right."

"You want me to show you how good you feel?" he asked, smirking. "Maybe remind you of all the fun we have together – and all the trouble we get up to…"

"Fuck yes," she exhaled, hitching her skirt up a little higher as she shifted her weight.

He pushed her upright and said, "First thing's first, you gotta get out of that dress – you've been making me hard all morning."

"Oh really?" she giggled.

"I just wanted to flip it up and take you hard," he growled.

"And fast?" she teased.

"Uh, no, I just wanted to bend you over the nearest –"

She pressed a finger against his lips to shut him up and slithered out of her dress, flipping it off the bed in a quick motion. She was left in nothing but her bra, a garter belt, and stockings – seeing as how she'd already kicked off her heels. "So, what you're saying, Mr. Morgan, is that you've had the hots for your wife all morning and you haven't done anything about it?" she asked, smirking when his eyes lit up on the realization that she'd been pantiless all morning and he hadn't done shit about it.

"I've been trying to be a nice member of society, not a –"

She slid off of him and gestured for him to sit up. "Hey, baby, shut up," she purred. "And do something about it." She pulled off his t-shirt and suggestively ran her fingers over his muscled abs. "Because that's what we're here for, isn't it?"

That was all the prompting it took to get him out of his pants and back on his back so she could tease him. There were only a few things that made him want her more than she wanted him – and she was going to stock her entire arsenal for war.

A sexy boot-knocking war, mind you, but her intention was to have his absolute surrender by the time they went home. As opposed to the other way around. And she was playing for keeps.

Unfortunately, he grabbed her and rolled them so she was on her back – and there went her distinct advantage. She almost complained, but he was already up in her space and thrusting into her before she could even open her mouth to breathe, let alone think. His hips rocked hard against hers, her legs came up around his waist and their kisses were deep, needy, full of longing and delight as they moved together.

Their fingers tangled together, holding on tightly as they moved. It was like an itch that had to be scratched – such a base need that there was no way to fulfill it without giving up on the bells and whistles, the experimental positions that would be better for her or him or – no, it was all about being so close and so in tune with each other that they could exist in one skin if only it were possible. Penelope shook wordlessly and breathlessly with the force of her release, and Derek wasn't far behind her.

"So much for foreplay," she commented softly.

"I – that wasn't how I – I had something different in mind," he admitted weakly.

"Mmm, we have time," she whispered, smiling up at him. "And don't you dare apologize – that was… fantastic. I forget sometimes how good it feels to just be loved."

"Then clearly, I'm not doing my job right," he said, his tone wistful and slightly sad.

"You are doing just fine," she assured him as he settled against her, resting his head on her chest. "I mean it, Hot Stuff – you're everything I ever wanted for myself. I just don't know how to –"

He silenced her with a soft kiss where her heart beat steadily in her chest. "Shh," was all he said.

* * *

><p>November 25, 2012<br>11:40 PM EDT

* * *

><p>"Shh, you don't want to wake up the kids," Penelope scolded, giggling softly as they came in the front door. "Or your mom," she reminded him. The cab ride from the airport had been full of conversation about Christmas presents, family shopping expeditions, and when they could try to get away again. Because escape was a necessary fantasy, between the house full of kids and the horrors they faced every day at work. Even a few days would work wonders.<p>

Derek set the alarm and pulled her toward him. "Have I told you how much I love you?" he asked, smiling.

"Today?" she asked, laughing. "Only about twenty times –"

"It's never enough," he said softly, tugging her into the living room. They sat down on the couch and he wrapped one of Brielle's play blankets around them, smiling as he turned on the tv so they could relax a few minutes before they tried to go upstairs and rest.

It wasn't long before late night talk shows were forgotten in favor of touch, kisses, and stifled moans. It wasn't as if they'd just spent three days fucking or anything – but there was something so much more comfortable and intimate about being on their home turf.

They both knew that their work was dangerous and that any time, one or both of them could be injured or killed – they knew it all too well. And it was moments like these, tangled up on the couch, desperately making love like the world was ending, that they both felt how much they needed one another. It wasn't just sex – it was reaffirming that they were in it forever, for the long haul, till the very end. And it was a confirmation and an affirmation of the love they felt so desperately and so deeply.

But they should have checked to make sure the door to the office was closed – because Fran got up and came out in her robe and slippers just as they were finished.

"Oh, you're home," Fran said dryly.

Penelope squeaked and fumbled with the blanket. Derek's hands gripped her hips like a vise. "Momma, what the – have you been watching us the whole time?" he asked, eyes wide.

"No, I've been trying to sleep," Fran replied grumpily. "But I woke up to 'oh, god, Derek, just like that – right there, oh god, yes'."

Penelope's face flushed scarlet and she tried to hide under the blanket. Derek just grinned up at his mother. "Yeah, we were having a little bit of fun," he agreed.

"Didn't you just have fun in Miami?" Fran replied immediately.

"Yeah, well, this was even more fun," he said with a chuckle. "We'll try to keep it down –"

"Dear god, it's like living with teenagers," Fran sighed as she went back into the office and slammed the door.

Penelope poked her head out from under the blanket and glared at him. "What's so damn funny?" she hissed. "Your mother just caught us fucking like animals –"

"Mmm, we should adjourn upstairs and keep her awake a while longer," he teased, winking.

She slapped him hard on the chest. "Derek Morgan, what is the matter with you?" she growled.

"I'm madly in love with my hot wife," he replied with that silly grin on his lips.

"You asshole," she moaned when he kissed her again. "There's no excuse for you –"

"Yes there is," he replied, "and she's sleeping in the office."

She giggled and kissed him back.


End file.
